The Proof Is In the Picture
by randomisking
Summary: Years after ending her relationship with Sam, Quinn has yet to find love again. While working as a wedding photographer, she sees Sam again for the first time in years and begins to question her decision to end their relationship.
1. Prologue

A/N: Please review! If you like it, I will continue. I know it starts out a little on the boring side, but hopefully the idea of it is semi-interesting. I really love the Sam/Quinn pairing, and I hate what is currently going on with Quinn/Finn on the show. But I digress. Anyway, hope you like what I have so far.

**OH! Before I forget, I am aware that Dani05 (****/~Dani05****) has started writing a Sam/Quinn story where I believe Quinn is a wedding planner? Feel free to correct me if I am wrong. Anyway, since that idea is similar to my own, I sent Dani05 a few PMs about posting my own story, wanting to make sure she knew that I did not in any way attempt to copy or use her idea, and in fact was not even aware of the existence of her story before I began writing my own. So, know that this story is completely my own work, and is not affiliated with Dani05 or her story or ideas.**

**Thank you!**

**Also, I don't own any characters, or the show Glee.**

You know that moment, the one right before your first kiss as husband and wife, or the exchanging of rings, or the one right before you start down the aisle on your father's arm, the one where you know you're part of something bigger?

I do. I know that moment better than anyone. Not because it has happened to me, but because I make a living capturing it. I kind of hate my job. Somehow it always just feels… cheap. I don't know why. I guess it's just that I take pictures, right? And selling them to people is always like selling them proof that at one point, they were a part of something real. And they were happy.

And when they get that proof, it'll get put in an album somewhere, maybe displayed, but maybe not, and fifty percent of the time will end up in a box somewhere in someone's attic after the divorce. And then maybe, a few years later, I'll get a call from that same bride or groom, asking me to take pictures for them at another wedding. Because they remember how beautiful the photos were the first time, and now they'd do anything to get that happiness back.

Before you get the wrong idea, I'm not just a cynic. I mean, I still believe in love. It's just that I've seen it fall apart enough times to know that maybe there's happiness in those moments, but there's always some underlying feeling that will find its way out. And before long, the only thing that photo will be is just a photo. It won't mean anything. And it will only make you look back in regret that you didn't think things through or attempt to settle your differences before getting hitched.

But then, I guess it doesn't really matter that I feel this way, since I get paid for my photos and _not_ my opinions. Either way, I can't really be one to talk about love, since I ran away from the only true love I've ever really experienced.

When I was in high school, (I know, I know, those are not promising words to begin a story about true love) I fell head over heels in love with a boy. And he was in love with me too. We went out for a while, and I was happier than I've ever been. I could completely be myself around him; I had nothing to hide, and I liked it that way. But it also scared me.

You see, I was afraid to put myself into the hands of someone else. I trusted Sam (that was his name, Sam,) completely—more than I've ever trusted anyone before. But yet, I wasn't ready. I'd loved and lost before, and even then I had never made myself as vulnerable as I had with Sam. He had enough of me to break my heart, and I was so afraid he would.

So I beat him to it. I broke my own heart, and I broke his too. We went from the most perfect couple you've ever seen to less than acquaintances in a matter of days. I knew he wouldn't forgive me for what I did, and I can't say I blame him. I know I only have myself to blame. But do I regret what I've done? Maybe. I can't decide. My only hope is that I gave him a chance to find true happiness, to find someone out there who would give him everything he deserved and more.

I truly loved Sam. It killed me to let him go, and it kills me still. But if he's happy now, then I'm happy. Because sometimes, the only way to truly love someone is to let them go.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I hope this chapter isn't too confusing, and hopefully it will explain some aspects of Quinn's character. It's a heavy subject to write about, and if you feel I'm insensitive in the way I write about it, PLEASE don't hesitate to tell me. The last thing I want is for anyone to be offended by this, so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know! Thank you! And thanks for reviewing.**

**P.S. Shout out to my good friend lifeisveryshortsoami! Thanks for the review, and thanks for being awesome! **

**P.P.S. I promise, the action will really start next chapter. But I think the back story this chapter contains is really crucial to the story. Thanks for bearing with me!**

Sometimes when people interview me before hiring me to take their wedding photos, they'll ask me when I knew that I wanted to be a photographer. To be honest, I've never told anyone why I do my job. I like to make up different stories depending on what I know of the people who are interviewing me. Call it cheating, call it deception, call it whatever you want. But some things are just too personal to tell a client. Even if the true story would probably make them hire me out of pity. I don't want that. I've never told anyone the real reason, not even Sam. But before I can tell you the rest of my story, I guess I have to start at the beginning.

My name is Quinn Fabray. I was the second daughter to Russell and Judy Fabray, and a younger sister to Frannie. And I'm a twin.

When my parents found out they were having twins, they were overjoyed. They made photocopies of the ultrasound to send to all their relatives, and even put the picture in a place of honor in the front hallway. At least, that's what I'm told. But I can only ever remember seeing the picture on a shelf in the basement, gathering dust.

You see, my sister, who was to be named Rachel Lynn Fabray, was stillborn. There is no way to prevent the stillbirth of a child, but I have always had the lingering fear that it was my fault. I, after all, was the only one with my sister in her final moments. And, of course, I wasn't even born, so there was nothing I could do, but it still hurts.

Sometimes I think that that's one of the reasons I was so cruel to Rachel Berry back in high school. I know it doesn't make sense, but it was hard for me to see Rachel at school every day and not think about the other Rachel and who she might have been.

My parents never talk about Rachel, and so I didn't even find out until I was twelve years old and had to turn a copy of my birth certificate into the school before I could join the cheerleading squad.

I had always wondered my birthdays weren't a big deal at my house. I mean, Frannie's were all right, but as a little girl I never had birthday parties, because my parents always seemed preoccupied around my special day.

Once, on my tenth birthday, I walked in on my father crying. He was in his study, but the door wasn't completely closed, and when I came in, he was hunched over at his desk, his shoulders shaking with sobs. It's an image I'll never forget.

I asked him what he was doing, what was wrong, and he said that he was under a lot of pressure at work. I only wish I had known then that he was mourning the ten-year anniversary of the loss of his daughter.

That's why my parents were so upset when I got pregnant. They never tried for other children after I was born, and I know they were afraid that my daughter would be stillborn as well, as though it were a disease that was passed on through inheritance. I know that there's nothing we could have done to prevent Rachel's death, but I'm not going to lie. I was worried too.

Anyway, I can't even describe how much life changed for me once I found out about Rachel. Frannie is almost ten years older than me, and I'd always wished for a sister closer to my age. Had I know that I had a twin, I'm not sure what I would have done. It makes it harder, almost, when you've lost someone who was so young, because you don't know who they would have been, so in your mind they can be whoever you want. I used to pretend Rachel was still with me sometimes. I'd talk to her at night, or a few times even in the hallways when I thought no one was looking.

In seventh grade, someone overheard me talking to Rachel at school, and that's when things got even worse for me. I was bullied terribly. I hadn't made the cheerleading squad, and I was painfully shy, so I was an easy target. I wasn't one to speak up about what I was really going through. The bullying got so bad that my family moved away from South Bend, Indiana, to Lima, Ohio, the summer before eighth grade.

That summer, a lot of things changed for me. I was determined to become popular at Lima Middle School, my new school, and I also wanted to join the cheerleading squad, so someday, I could become head cheerleader at McKinley, where the Cheerios legacy was already in the works.

The other thing that changed that summer was that I became a photographer. During the move, I found a shoebox in the attic of my old house labeled 'Rachel'. Inside, I found pictures of Rachel, looking beautiful, after her birth. I learned about a company that took beautiful, peaceful portraits of stillborn children for their parents. Usually, the parents only get to hold their child for a few minutes, and then the child begins preparations for burial. But the company that had taken the photos of Rachel existed solely for situations like hers. They took the pictures for free, to offer a way for the parents to love and mourn their child. But most of all, to remember.

After I found those pictures, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to take pictures, but not meaningless ones that you'll look at briefly and then throw away. I wanted to take pictures people wanted to keep. I wanted to take pictures that mattered.

Though I'm not involved in the company that took those photos of Rachel, I have taken portraits like hers before a few times. But mostly I do wedding photos. As much as I want to offer the world the peace that those photos have given me, it is very difficult for me to do those kinds of jobs, so I settled for weddings, where I can capture the happiness for once, instead of solemnity.

I'm not that well known for the photos I take, but I'm listed in the phone book, and even though it's weird to me that people _actually _still use the phone book, I do get a lot of calls from people who had simply looked up 'special occasion photographers' in the Yellow Pages. (I'm listed under 'special occasions' because it seems to cover all the bases, but you can't really put a label on my photos. I'm hired at many different kinds of events.)

Anyway, though I live in Delphos, Ohio, not Lima anymore, they share the same phone book, and Lima is close enough that I don't mind driving over for someone's wedding. I have to do a good deal of my business in Lima, anyway, since there are so many people I know from when I lived there. It's funny how many people never leave small towns like that. I guess in a way I haven't really left either, since Delphos is only a half hour away.

Anyway, I'd promised Tina Cohen-Chang, who was now about to become Mrs. Mike Chang, that I'd do photos for her wedding way back in September, and now, May 9th, it was here. As much as I was looking forward to seeing Tina and Mike again, I wasn't really excited to see, you know, the whole Glee club again. Especially a certain blonde-haired male. Also, I knew my friends would ask about my current dating situation, and I was embarrassed to admit I hadn't even been looking since I broke up with Sam. But a promise is a promise, and I would never blow off Tina. So, on that bright May morning, I got in my car and took the familiar drive back to Lima.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so… I hope you don't hate me too much after reading this chapter. There's probably a bit less of Sam than you were expecting, but I promise he will come in in a MAJOR way in chapter four. **

** Thanks so much for all the reviews! I really, really appreciate them. Also, thanks to everyone who has added this story to their favorites or story alerts. It really means a lot to me that you like my work. Also, to the anonymous person who posted an excerpt from chapter one on tumblr, thanks a ton. My Internet connection was being weird earlier today, so it made me search my fanfiction profile page on Google instead of going there directly, and that tumblr post came up on the search! Thanks for doing that, I thought that was really cool. Anyway, thanks again to everyone. You guys are truly the best.**

** By the way: there are a few words in this chapter that are stronger than I generally use. I'm probably just being ridiculous, and I know it's rated 'T', but there is one use of 'hell' and one of 'damn.' I know, I know, tons of stories use much stronger language, but I want to warn you in case anyone gets offended super easily.**

** Okay, well, I am going to stop rambling now and let you read the story. I'm going to try and post chapter four on Monday, but I'll have to see how it goes. Hope you enjoy!**

** DISCLAIMER: The only characters I own are Damian, Daisy, Nicole, Angela, Jacob, Anthony and Joel. Everything else is owned by Fox and the show Glee.**

I pulled into the familiar Lima Community Chapel parking lot a few minutes before I was expected and was happy to see Mercedes getting out her car a few parking spots away, dressed in the light blue maid of honor dress Tina had told me about. I regret not becoming closer with Mercedes in high school; she had shown me compassion when no one else would, and I was thrilled to see her now.

"Mercedes!" I called, getting out of my car.

She turned her head. "Quinn!" She dashed over to hug me. "Tina said you were doing photos! I missed you, girl! How have you been?"

"Good!" I replied. "How about you? You still with Damian?" Damian had been Mercedes' boyfriend the last time we had spoken, and they seemed pretty serious. But that had been weeks ago.

Mercedes said nothing, but held out her left hand to show me the simple but elegant gold band on her ring finger.

"Wow, Mercedes! I'm so happy for you!" I exclaimed, embracing her. "Do you have a date yet?"

"Not yet." She answered, "But we'd be honored if you'd do our photos. I wanted you to be a bridesmaid, but…" She shrugged, "There's no way we'll find a better photographer."

"I'd love to." I told her. I was flattered that she'd even mentioned me being a bridesmaid, and I understood her reasoning for preferring I be the photographer. In any case, I _was_ thrilled for her, and was excited to really catch up with her at the reception. She helped me take my camera and equipment out of the car, and we walked into the church together.

Once inside, we headed into a small room where Tina was getting ready. She looked beautiful, her jet-black hair (the blue highlights were long gone) sharply contrasting the bright white of her dress.

She pulled me into an embrace and thanked me for being there to do photos. "Of course!" I responded. "How are you feeling, Tina?"

"I'm so excited." She responded. "Mike is…" She sighed. "He's just everything I dreamed of as a little girl. And not everyone gets to have that…" She trailed off, lost in thought. For some selfish reason, this depressed me. I _had_ felt like that before, but it was long ago. And I'd ruined it, anyway. But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Today was about Tina and Mike. Not me.

Before I could think of a response to Tina, Rachel Berry dashed in the room, already talking a mile a minute, just like she used to. I'd grown out of my frustration towards Rachel; once I understood that it wasn't entirely her fault that I got so annoyed with her, it became easier for me to be kind. She breezed around the room, hugging each of us in turn and kissing Tina on the cheek.

The last time I'd seen Rachel had been a year and a half before, when she'd invited me to a party she and Finn (yes, they eventually got back together) were throwing, and I'd gone for a little bit. Reuniting with the other glee clubbers was always fun, so long as I steered clear from Sam. So, when Sam showed up, I did the immature thing and left.

Yes. I admit it. I'm a chicken. But what else can I do? I'm just afraid that if I see him, I'll regret what I did and make some stupid mistake. The last few times I made bad mistakes, they resulted in me getting pregnant and getting mono, so I'm not really sure I should risk it anymore.

Anyway, before long, the whole room was full of the former glee club girls, many of whom were bridesmaids. The only New Directions girl not present was Santana, though that was no surprise. After high school, she moved to L.A., and no one really heard from her very often. I don't blame her though. We're friends on Facebook, and let's just say that she's a lot more L.A. than Lima these days.

As always, the reunion was lovely. Even those of us who didn't get along in high school found it easy to chat now. I guess once you don't have to deal with someone every day, you realize that they're really not so bad. But we didn't really have time for much of a catch-up, since I had to get my things set up and everyone else had to finish their own preparations for the ceremony. I didn't mind, though, I knew there'd be plenty of time for catching up at the reception.

The actual wedding, as usual, was kind of a blur for me. I don't get to focus much on the actual words of the ceremony typically, because I'm always rushing around making sure I have the right angles at the right times. But it was a beautiful wedding. The bridesmaids were Mercedes, Tina's sister Daisy, Tina's college roommate Nicole, Lauren Zycies, (who, by the way, has really gotten in shape since I first met her. She's absolutely beautiful.) and Tina's cousin Angela. The groomsmen were Sam, (yes, I did have to occasionally stare at him. So what? It's my job!) Finn, Puck, Mike's brothers Jacob and Anthony, and his college roommate Joel.

After the ceremony, I had to do the pictures with Tina's family, Mike's family, the wedding party, etc., which took longer than usual due to the fact that so many of them were my friends. (And okay, so Sam had to look at _me _and smile this time, but again, it's all part of the job.) I knew the photos would turn out well, and I knew Tina would enjoy them.

Then came the part I was most looking forward to: the reception. As with any wedding, I was still supposed to take photos there, but it was much easier since they didn't necessarily have to be perfect and/or staged. It's much easier to take good pictures when people are just behaving naturally, believe it or not.

As immature as I know it sounds, I did stay away from Sam. I hadn't spoken to him in…well, a really long time, and I wasn't sure that talking to him again would really be good for me. The last thing I need anyone to find out is that I still have feelings for him, and while I think I made the right choice in letting him go, I don't want to even start talking with him lest my emotions take over.

I talked for a while with Mercedes fiancée, Damian, who was a very nice guy and obviously completely in love with Mercedes. I was glad she had someone who cared about her so deeply. She deserved it. Back in high school, she never really seemed to be in relationships, but I guess it made it all the more special for her to be with Damian now.

After that, I cruised around, taking pictures and stopping to chat with more of my high school friends.

As I knew they would, some of my old friends asked about my dating situation. I told them I "wasn't seeing anyone at the moment", which is my go-to answer because it's not only true, but also mysterious enough that people can assume I have actually been dating since high school, but I don't have to confirm or deny anything.

Mr. Schuester made his appearance, which was awesome, since I don't think I'd even seen him since graduation. (Which, really, isn't all that surprising, since it isn't as though Finn and Rachel were going to invite their old glee club teacher to their parties or anything.) Apparently Mr. Schue was dating Ms. Pilsbury, because they certainly seemed interested in each other, and I doubt Tina would invite Ms. Pilsbury on her own. Anyway, it seemed a little weird until I remembered that Ms. Pilsbury had gotten divorced form that dentist guy the year after my senior year at McKinley. Apparently he wasn't quite who everyone thought he was, and I remembered that it had been quite a scandal.

Artie and Brittany were also there, still dating after all this time, and I wondered why Artie hadn't popped the question yet. Believe it or not, Brittany talked most of the time about her courses at Lima Community College, though she did mention that she thought 'Physics' was a personal appearance class until second semester.

Next, I ran into Lauren, who I hadn't gotten very close to at McKinley, but was fun to talk to nonetheless.

"How's Puck?" I asked her.

"How should I know?" She responded. "I don't need his personal updates, so I sure as hell didn't listen when he tried to give them today. You'd think that my wrestling talent and our awkward breakup combined would get him to shut up when I tell him to, but…" She shook her head sadly.

I laughed. I knew Puck well enough to know that, while he plays it cool, once he has his eye on a girl, he follows her around like a puppy. Sure enough, not ten seconds later, Puck showed up next to Lauren.

"Hey Zycies, Quinn." He said, nodding to each of us in an obvious attempt to look cool and collected.

"I thought I told you to get lost, Puckerman." Lauren said in her usual dry tone, cracking her knuckles.

"Hey, I'm just being friendly!" He responded, ignoring the fact that she was obviously annoyed. I laughed and left them to it, opting to go find one of the other former glee clubbers that I hadn't had a chance to see yet.

It was interesting to catch up with Finn again. Though he'd gotten offers to play football in college, he'd opted to stay closer to home. But he and Rachel were planning a move to New York City in the near future so that Rachel could finally pursue her career.

Kurt and Blaine were as close as ever. They had started going out senior year, and well… that's really the only update they talked about. Several times I saw Sam out of the corner of my eye, and I always excused myself to join a conversation on the opposite side of the room.

Finally, after a long, exhausting talk with Rachel about the benefits of New York City versus Los Angeles, I began to get thirsty. I excused myself and walked across the room to the bartender to get a drink. As I waited, I head a familiar voice behind me. "Quinn."

"_Damn it." _I thought as I turned around. "Hello, Sam."

**A/N: Again, I know, I know, the Sam thing. He's coming back. I swear. I'm bummed too that Santana is absent, but she seemed most likely to ditch everyone and run off to L.A. I kind of want to pursue her character a little more, but I'll have to see where the story takes me. So, don't give up hope on seeing Santana just yet. ;) **

** Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, I know. The cliffhanger last time was terrible. I'm sorry. I just really didn't want to overextend that chapter but putting too much action in it. Also, I really like cliffhangers. But I hope this chapter is worth waiting for. It may be a little confusing, but I sure hope not!

By the way, again, this chapter contains one use of the word 'hell.' Just a heads up.

**THANKS AGAIN for all the reviews. Much appreciated. By the way, as I said before, I am considering giving Santana a little role in a future chapter. I think I have an idea for it… what do you all think? Please let me know in your review whether or not you are interested in seeing Santana a little later on. Thanks! **

**By the way, yes, I watched the Bieber episode. I'm not a fan of Bieber. At all. So, in my opinion, it was a pretty sucky episode. Except I did like the Rachel/Brittany trend setting sub-plot. And even tohugh I already knew Sam was going to break up with Quinn and start dating Santana because of that producer's interview, it still just about broke my heart. (Okay, minor overstatement. Whatever.) Anyway, I'm really excited for this week's party episode! Hopefully things will get better as the season progresses.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters in this chapter, nor am I in any way affiliated with Glee, Fox, or their parent companies. (Yeah, I just wanted to say that. ****)**

Sam pulled me into a hug, which I wasn't expecting. I exhaled slowly as we embraced, trying to get my heartbeat back to a normal pace, sure that he could hear it.

"Quinn," he said as he pulled back, "I want to talk to you."

It was weird for him to say this, no 'how have you been' or 'what are you doing now'. I guess I always liked that about Sam. When he had something on his mind, he just put it all out on the table. He was never one to keep you waiting, partially due to his own impatience.

"We are talking." I pointed out.

He smiled. "You know what I mean. I… well, I kind of have something important to say. Walk with me?"

I nodded. (Well, what was I supposed to do? If the guy you've been in love with since high school asked you to walk with him, what would you have done? See? Don't be so quick to judge!)

I followed him out of the hotel ballroom the reception was being held in and outside to a little courtyard. It was empty, apart from us, with a fountain in the middle and benches set around a stone walkway, which was lined in bushes on either side.

We walked along the circular path in silence for a minute. It was a little bit chilly out, for May anyway. I didn't mind, though. I was content with just being near him, after all this time.

Time is a funny thing. It sneaks up on you, changes you, and before you know it, puts you right back in the same situation you've been in before. Except it isn't the same anymore, because _you're_ not the same.

And I knew that being with Sam, no matter how right it felt, was not going to be the same as the first time, no matter what he had to say to me. Speaking of which, I wondered why he hadn't said anything yet. Was he regretting bringing me here with him? What was going on in his mind?

He was looking around as we walked, anywhere but at me. A few times he opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it abruptly. Finally, he began to speak, and I could almost hear the carefulness with which he chose his words.

Oddly enough, there was no tension in the air, even though I'm pretty sure he knew I had been avoiding him all night. (And for the past several years…) But we had somehow slipped into our pre-breakup comfort, and I was hoping whatever he had to say wouldn't mess that up.

"Quinn," He started, "I…" He looked around again, scratching the back of his neck. Then he laughed a little. "This is going to sound so bizarre. I know we haven't spoken in a long time. But the thing is, I… I need a favor."

I looked over at him, not saying anything yet. (I'm not so desperate to tell him I'll help him with anything he needs. Besides, I knew I shouldn't be getting back in to that relationship. It's just a little hard to think rationally when you're on a quiet walk with the boy you love. But I digress.)

He didn't say anything again for a few seconds, but just glanced at me, I guess to gauge my reaction. I, of course, didn't have much of a reaction yet. How bad could one little favor be? I nodded for him to go on.

He looked over at me again, directly into my eyes, and for just a second, I saw a desperate little kid in Sam, confused and unsure. And for a brief moment I wondered how he'd been and what he'd been doing since we broke up. But like him, I chose not to ask those questions, instead staring back as if daring him to go on. But then he looked away and the moment of stillness, of wonder, was gone. Then he broke the silence. "Do you promise you won't laugh?" He asked. "It's going to sound a little weird."

I paused for a moment. "Sam, just tell me."

He took a deep breath, as if he was unsure whether he were really going to ask me something after all. "Here's the thing." He said. "I need a friend."

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that. The fact that he was blatantly asking for my friendship both shocked and intrigued me. I'd never had someone ask me for such a favor before. And I wondered why Sam was doing it now.

He stared at me again, trying to understand my reaction, but I was unsure as to what my reaction should be. I didn't look at him. I was staring off into the distance, looking off to someplace that wasn't there. Looking back, I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking in those moments. I should have been thinking of Sam and his request, but I know I wasn't. Not directly, anyway.

I had retreated to a place deep inside myself, a memory I hadn't allowed myself to remember until that moment.

_"Quinn, you know I'll always love you, right?" Sam was looking up at the sky as we lay on a blanket in my garden. We weren't doing anything, just laying there, just being in that moment together._

_ It was long before I'd had any thoughts of breakup, when I still thought that being with Sam could somehow turn out okay, even though I knew I had made myself vulnerable._

_ "I know." I said. "But doesn't everyone always say that? What does that mean, Sam? What if something happens to…" My voice broke on the word. "Us?"_

_ Sam sighed. I knew he wasn't ever expecting a goodbye, and I have to admit that at that moment, I wasn't either. Then he suddenly sat up. "Quinn," he said, taking my hand in both of his and grasping it more firmly than he ever had before, "I'm going to make you a promise." _

_ He turned my hand over in his, looking down at the ring he'd given me, the promise he'd already made me. He did not appear to want to spend time reflecting on that promise though, and he seemed to want to just spit this new promise out before he had a chance to change his mind. "If something ever happens to us. If we… well, if we don't stay together forever, I'm going to promise that I will always, always be there for you. Do you understand?"_

_ "Yeah." I said, after a pause, looking into his eyes. "Like a friend."_

_ The words hurt him, I could tell. He didn't want to think about just being my friend, and I could understand that. It's hard to be only friends with someone you're in love with, and it's hard to imagine giving up your romantic relationship to just be friends. "Yeah." He agreed softly. "Like a friend. But Quinn, can you promise me something in return?"_

_ I said nothing, just looking at him, my eyes wide. "I need you to be a friend to me." He told me. "If I… if I need it. If we've broken up. Can you promise me that you'll always be a friend to me, even if that should happen?"_

_ I wasn't even considering a breakup at that moment, I remember. I was sure I was going to marry Sam, just like he'd told me when he'd given me the ring, and live happily ever after. Just like a fairytale._

_ "I promise." I answered. And I meant it, then. _

_He leaned down and kissed me softly. "I love you, Quinn Fabray."_

"_I love you too." I whispered._

Sam was staring at me still, trying to read my expression. I wondered if, in that moment, he had seen that flashback as well, and if maybe that was what had driven the question.

I think I still have photos from that day somewhere, in a box maybe. I think I kept them. I have so many photos from that relationship. It's hard as hell to let those things go. I don't look at them of course, but it's like I said. There's proof in those pictures that I was, at some point, happier.

I guess I had been quiet for a long time, because then Sam said. "Quinn, say something."

Without really thinking about my answer, the words sort of spilled out of my mouth. "Okay." I said. "I made you a promise, Sam, I didn't forget."

He smiled at me, and I wondered if he had just experienced the same flashback as I had, or if he'd maybe even been thinking about that flashback for a long time. Maybe he would have asked me this long ago, if I hadn't been avoiding him. But I didn't have time to dwell on it.

"But," I continued, "I don't understand. Why do you need me?" (Okay, so the phrase 'need me' made my heart skip a few beats. So what?)

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm lonely." He told me. "I've been really lonely, for a long time now. And… you're the sweetest girl I've ever known. I figured if I got to choose anybody to be my friend, it'd be you."

I had no idea, at that moment in time, what I was getting myself in to. I really didn't. "Sam…" I began, not sure whether or not I really wanted an answer to my question, "is this about the promise we made so long ago?"

He nodded, and I knew I had to think fast if I wanted to avoid the awkwardness of reminiscing on our past relationship.

"So… what now?" asked. I had no idea what would change after I accepted his offer, or how it was even going to affect me.

"Well," he said, "I didn't tell you, but I moved to Delphos about a year ago. So I have a job there, but it's not full time, I only work a few evenings a week. I'm barely making ends meet. And I wondered if maybe I could maybe even work with you…"

I looked up, surprised. "Like an assistant? How come?"

"Well, I don't know, I just…" He laughed without humor. "I just don't know anything anymore. All I really know right now is, Quinn, if you can be a friend to me, I'll do anything. I just really, really need somebody. Even not as a job, I just… need to be around someone."

I knew then that he was asking me to make a real commitment to him. Not just to be the acquaintance that he spoke to if he ran into them, but to be his companion, his best friend, the person he could call at three in the morning just because he felt like talking. And I knew in my heart that I owed it to both him and myself to accept.

"Sam," I said softly, "I'm not going to let you down."

I closed my eyes as he hugged me again, and this time I could hear his own heart beating fast, though I couldn't tell if it was just in the heat of the moment or the fact that he had me in his arms again. All I could tell for sure was that I had just been given an opportunity. And I was not going to waste it.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, so, I updated my profile a little bit ago with a poll, which asks you which pairing I should write for next. If the pairing you want me to write isn't one of the choices, PM me about it. I can't promise I'll write it for you, because if it's from a show/movie/book I don't watch/haven't seen/read, we'd probably both be better off if I don't write about it. I've learned from experience that it's always better (and easier!) to write about what you know. But if you could PLEASE vote in the poll, I would really appreciate it!**

** As always, thanks a million to my awesome reviewers, especially those of you that have left multiple reviews. Time is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone, and I really appreciate the fact that you spend your own free time reading my work. It means the world to me, it really does.**

** Also, if any of you out there are SWAC fanfic readers/writers, I'm trying to find a story I read a long time ago. All I remember about it is that Chad and Sonny were friends when they were little, and I think Capri Sun and a playground were involved. I know, that's super vague, but that's really all I remember. Oh, but I also remember that it was really good! (Duh, why else would I want to read it again? Sorry. I'm really tired right now.) Anyways, if any of you have a clue as to what story that might be, please let me know.**

** I seriously have to stop making these Author's Notes so long. Sorry. I'll work on that. ;)**

** Disclaimer: Only the ideas belong to me. The characters, sadly, aren't mine. **

When we went back inside to the reception, no one asked where we had gone. No one mentioned the fact that Sam was by my side for the rest of the evening. Perhaps they wondered, but they didn't ask.

In a weird way, I think I accepted Sam's request just as much for myself as for him. I, too, had been lonely since high school, but I doubt I'd ever have recalled the promise Sam made me. Since we broke up, I hadn't really allowed myself to think about the memories of our relationship, good or bad. I don't know why. I mean, the memories were a part of me, but I guess I just always thought that recalling them would upset me too much. Being upset and lonely is far worse than simply being lonely.

There's a quote that says, "Alone. The most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym." I think Stephen King said it, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I believe it's true. There is nothing worse than being alone, especially when you know you brought the loneliness on yourself. And I had. But that all changed the day I let Sam back in to my life. Suddenly, I had someone beside me every step of the way. It's funny, I didn't notice how big the hole in my heart was until I filled it.

Two weeks after the wedding, Sam and I were nearly inseparable. He had a key to my place, and I had a key to his. I saw him every day without fail, and those were the times in which I was happiest.

He worked some nights as a health inspector for local businesses, an idea that was kind of funny to me. Of all the things I could've imagined Sam would grow up to be, health inspector wasn't on the list.

Every night that we weren't working, we'd go to dinner, often playing a game we called, "guess what you're having for dinner", in which we would each order new or exotic sounding things, try them both, and then keep whichever one we liked. We never had a problem with the game until both dishes turned out to be totally gross. Luckily, we had opted for takeout that night, so we simply threw the containers of food in the trash and made peanut butter sandwiches.

"Does eating gross food count as building character?" He asked one night.

"Who cares?" I answered. "You have plenty of character. Besides, I thought you said you liked it." I gestured to his half-eaten plate of veggie burger tacos with low-fat curry sauce.

"I said I _didn't mind_ it." He corrected. "And that was after the first bite. Now I'm about twenty bites in, and I can honestly say this is gross."

"Well, I like my food." I told him, as I ate the chipotle and lemon pepper pasta. "I think you're just being picky."

"And _I_ think you got off easy." He responded.

I shrugged. "You picked my food, it was your choice! You made your bed, it's time to lie in it."

He made a pouty face at me, and I knew he wasn't really upset. Then he reached for another taco. I guess guys will eat just about anything. I never had a brother, I wouldn't know.

I'd begun to record my new relationship with Sam in photos. Whenever he'd complain about me taking my camera everywhere, I'd remind him that photography was my source of income, and I needed the practice. After a while, the comments became rare, and then he stopped complaining altogether.

I was a little concerned about the fact that I had, again, taken down my walls for Sam. Being so vulnerable was an odd sensation. On the one hand, I liked not having to hide, but on the other hand, I was so afraid I'd wreck everything again. But, like the first time, I still didn't tell him about my sister Rachel. I still wasn't ready. He'd never been in my bedroom, so he'd never seen the picture of her on my bedside table. Once, he asked why I'd decided to go into photography, but I dodged the question by simply stating that it was something I was passionate about. It was the first secret I kept from him, but not the only one.

Sam and I never spoke of our previous relationship, as though we had an unspoken rule against it. I didn't mind, though, I didn't want to dwell on the past. For once, I was content to live in the present.

One night, I almost grabbed his hand as we were walking together. Nightly walks had become routine for us, they were a time to reflect on our day and, well, whatever else we wanted to talk about. Luckily, I caught myself just in time and pulled my hand away. But I didn't catch myself before I could remember how good it had felt when I didn't have to hold back my urge to hold his hand, and it saddened me.

Sometimes, things like that happened, when I went off into my own little world. Unfortunately, sometimes my own little world tuned out Sam when he'd say something. When I didn't respond, he'd ask softly, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." I'd say, and jump back in to the conversation with a little too much enthusiasm. But I think he knew why I'd been so quiet, so he wouldn't press the question. Just because he'd had problems with schoolwork as a kid didn't make him stupid.

But as our relationship grew stronger, I began to think that maybe _I_ was the stupid one. I guess when Sam had asked me to be a friend to him, I had somehow thought that we'd end up getting back together. Don't ask me why, sometimes my thoughts weren't exactly logical when I was around him. But as the days turned into weeks, I began to realize that that wasn't where our relationship was heading.

"Quinn," he told me once, "you're my best friend."

I smiled at him in response, what else could I do? "And you're my best friend." I answered.

At that point, I knew that I wasn't going to sacrifice his friendship to tell him about the feelings I had left from our high school relationship. I didn't want to risk what we already had together. Though it pained me to hold back, I never mentioned my feelings. I didn't even hint at them. I was the best friend, and I wasn't ready to change that status until he was.

I guess I didn't know exactly what Sam's intentions were with our friendship. He hadn't quite made them clear to me, but when I heard him say I was his best friend, I understood that he wasn't considering anything other than that. Like I said before, Sam puts it all out on the table. I'm not sure he really thinks about risks, which can be a good or a bad thing depending on how you look at it. But knowing this about him also reminded me that if he ever wanted to be something more than best friends, he'd tell me. And so far, it didn't look as though we'd be having _that_ conversation anytime soon.

About a month and a half after the wedding, I was sitting on the couch in my living room, leafing through a magazine, but, as usual, thinking about Sam. I heard his key turn in the lock and blocked out my daydream, picking the magazine up so it would at least look like I'd been focused on something.

I hadn't expected to see him that evening. We'd had lunch together, and I knew he was working that night. Sometimes he came over after work, but it was rare, and I had learned not to expect it.

I loved it when Sam came over at night, though. He'd make himself at home with me, on the couch or on the floor. We didn't always talk. One of the nice things about being with him was that we didn't _have_ to talk all the time. We were content with just being.

Sometimes, I'd fall asleep while he was there, and wake up to find him gone, though sometimes he'd leave his jacket covering me like a blanket. But it didn't matter if I fell asleep while he was there or not, he was always the last thing on my mind as I drifted off, and the first thing I thought of in the morning.

Occasionally, he too would fall asleep, usually right on the rug. I never woke him up. I knew to let him sleep, and if he woke up and wanted to leave, he'd let himself out. We were comfortable with each other, and I was glad to have that level of comfort back, even though we weren't quite in the same situation we'd been in before. But things never do happen the same way twice.

I had also learned to always keep my phone on at night. Sometimes, he'd call me in the middle of the night to say something, just because an idea had occurred to him. I always scolded him and asked if he knew what time it was, but we both knew I didn't really mind it. It mattered more to me that he had placed that much trust in me, and admittedly I felt a little guilty that I hadn't completely opened up to him about Rachel. But I could usually talk myself out of that guilt by reminding myself that I'd never told anyone about her.

Anyway, that particular evening, it seemed as though he was unlocking the door and opening it with more speed than usual, but I thought it was my imagination. At least, that's what I thought until he danced into the room, pausing only to pull me up from the couch (leaving the magazine, which I'd only pretended to look at anyway, to fall to the floor) and swing me around with him, until we eventually fell back, laughing, onto the rug.

"Sam, what is it?" I asked, when we'd caught our breath. For some stupid reason, I honestly thought he had realized I was in love with him. Maybe he felt the same way! Maybe that's why we were dancing! I forced my mind to stop racing ahead of us in time to listen to his answer.

"I met a girl today." He sighed. "I think I'm in love."

**A/N: Remember back in the Author's Note where I talked about writing what you know? Yeah, let's just say I know **_**all**__**about**_** only being "the best friend." Anyway, this is about the story, not about me, so I have to apologize for the awful cliffhanger. I'll update soon, though, I promise! And seeing as I only received one response to my Santana question, I'm not going to reveal to you exactly what I have planned yet. You're going to have to wait and see!**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks again for all the reviews. Welcome to anyone who is new to reading this story. Also, to the people who answered my poll… the results are interesting. Thanks for taking the time to do that!**

**Again, really sorry if this chapter is confusing. Sometimes things make perfect sense in my head, but when I put them down on paper… not so much. But I tried!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sam, Quinn, or Glee, and I may or may not own the other character who appears in this chapter. But the only way you can find that out is by reading. :P**

For a second, it was as though I couldn't breathe again, except this time it wasn't from dancing. It was as though I'd been punched in the stomach and was trying without success to find air. I almost wanted to ask him to repeat it so I could make sure I'd heard him correctly, but I didn't want to put myself through that.

Suddenly, all the joy I'd had moments before, the suspense from not knowing, and the happiness of having Sam twirl me around in his arms, was gone. It was _all_ gone.

I don't even think Sam noticed that I hadn't spoken yet. He was far away from me, already too caught up in this new girl, when he probably hadn't even considered the girl he had taken his newfound problem to.

It took me a few minutes to sort out my next move. All I really wanted to do was go back in my room, maybe cry a little, and talk to Rachel about it like I used to back in seventh grade. But obviously that wasn't an option, because Sam didn't even know about Rachel, and I know he'd notice if I had just gotten up and left. My second choice, of course, was to tell him how I really felt, but that was obviously out too. First and foremost, I reminded myself, my job was to protect Sam, make him feel less lonely. If I admitted my feelings when I knew he wouldn't reciprocate, he wouldn't be my best friend anymore, and then we'd both be lonely.

So, I was left with choice number three again: be the "best friend". After several minutes of silence, (well, almost silence… I don't think Sam realized he was humming.) I asked, "Well, what's her name?"

"I don't know." Sam sighed. He sounded so deliriously happy it almost broke my heart. "And I don't know when I'm going to see her again. But I have to, Quinn. I really think I'm in love with her. I wish I knew her name!"

"Oh boy." I answered. "You'd better start at the beginning. Tell me everything you know about this girl."

"Well," he started, "I was working in Lima tonight, inspecting this new dance club/bar-type thing. You know my boss likes me to inspect those places at night. It's less conspicuous, and you can whether or not they're actually following guidelines."

"Right." I responded dryly. In his distraction, Sam must have forgotten that he'd already explained all these things to me.

"Anyway, after I scoped out the place, Finn and I planned to meet up for a drink." He went on. "But then… I saw her…"

Just to tease him, I asked, "Saw who?"

"The girl!" He cried impatiently. "I saw her, and it's like time just froze for a second. I mean, I haven't felt that was since… well, anyway…"

I knew what he meant to say. He hadn't felt that way since he met me. It hurt that he had just confirmed that he was, indeed, completely over me. Though my mind begged me not to, I said, "Go on."

"It was weird. It was like… she was so familiar. And yet, so mysterious. I know that doesn't make any sense. I mean, I hadn't met her before. I can't have met her before, could I?"

Familiar yet mysterious... Oh no. Oh no no no. This was not good. I don't know how, but I think I knew what was going on the second Sam mentioned that phrase. Which, honestly, doesn't make that much sense, as there has to be thousands and thousands of people that can be described that way. But not, I guess, in Lima. Not in the little world I was from.

"I guess I was just kind of intrigued by her." He told me. "I was a little in awe, at first, which sounds weird, but if you had been there, I think you would have understood. She was just the kind of person that it seems almost normal for people to be in awe of."

I let this sink in. I knew what kind of person he was talking about. I had a specific example in mind, actually. But I stopped myself from thinking about it. I just didn't want to think about them yet. There was still some hope left that I was wrong.

"But she… she called me by my name…and at first I thought it was just my imagination, but then she just winked at me and kept walking."

Every time he answered one of my questions, it was like he was adding pieces to the puzzle. And now, I could see a whole section of the puzzle, and I didn't like the picture it was making. "How did she know your name?" I asked, not entirely sure I even wanted to know.

"She must have been a friend of Finn's or something." He answered. "That's what I thought at first. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense. But when I asked him about her later, he had no idea. It was like I had made her all up in my head or something."

I wondered if he knew how much I wished he had simply made her up. But I knew he hadn't. Sam, no matter how desperate he was, would _never_ make something like that up. I knew he wouldn't, because I knew _I_ wouldn't. And when you got right down to it, Sam was really a lot like me. "How exactly did she say your name?" I asked, hoping he'd give me more details, so that I could prove myself wrong. I'd be more than happy to berate myself for jumping to conclusions. But unfortunately, I didn't get that opportunity.

"Well, I was walking out of the hallway where the bathrooms were, and she was walking in the opposite direction, coming towards me. And as she passed, she kind of said 'hi, Sam.' Almost in a flirty way. Do you think maybe we knew her in high school or something?"

I didn't answer his question. "Did you check that she wasn't talking to someone behind you or something?" I asked, not even letting myself hope.

"Yeah." He answered. "But even if she had been, what kind of crazy coincidence would that be? Besides, when I turned around to look, she was still watching me, and she kind of giggled a little. There was no one there."

I was silent. Then Sam continued. "She was beautiful, Quinn. But I just couldn't escape the thought that I knew her from somewhere. But I can't have."

I couldn't bring myself to answer that. "Was that… was that it?" I asked. "Just the exchange by the bathrooms? Is that the only time you interacted with her?"

I could hear the frustration in his voice. "Yeah." He said, sadly. "That was it. But it was like my eyes were suddenly opened or something, you know?"

I didn't, but I nodded in agreement.

He continued. "I just couldn't keep my eyes off of her. I tried, but I just…couldn't stop staring. I just really need to find out something else about her. It was like every move she made was just… indescribable. She was beautiful."

"Sam." I said softly, knowing he wasn't going to take what I had to say very well, "I don't think you love her."

He didn't say anything, just listened.

"I mean, isn't this just like any other girl? She's beautiful; you mentioned that. But you know nothing about her aside from the fact that she knows your name. Could it be that you just felt… a strong attraction or something?"

Sam sighed. "I knew you were going to say something like this." He muttered, more to himself than to me. "But I know, Quinn. When you see the one, well, I can't explain it. You just _know_."

"Look." I responded. "You're my best friend. I'm really happy that you think you found someone. But as a friend, I'm going to warn you that you don't know what you're getting yourself into. This girl could be anyone. I just don't want to see you get hurt, Sam."

Sam wasn't listening, and I knew it was because he had _chosen_ not to listen, not because he was just distracted. "Can I describe her to you?" He asked. "Maybe you know someone that matches my description. Maybe she went to high school with us… or she was at Mike's wedding or something!"

"Go ahead." I told him.

"Well, she had dark brown hair… it was almost black, and really dark eyes. Her skin was kind of olive-colored, and really clear and smooth. Maybe she was Latina or something?"

It was so funny to me that he hadn't any idea of her identity that I almost laughed out loud.

"Well?" He asked. "Do we know anyone like that? I know it's been a long time since high school; I can't remember everyone."

I swallowed hard before answering. "No." I told him quietly. "No, I don't think we knew anyone like that." It wasn't the first lie I'd told him, and I knew I had to stop lying to him. But as much as I wanted to in my heart, my mind wouldn't let myself tell him the truth.

He was silent for a moment, reflecting on what I had said, maybe? "Well, thanks for trying, Quinn." He said. His voice sounded odd, and I realized he was falling asleep. It was after midnight, after all. As he drifted off, he seemed to forget where he was, and, so quietly that I almost couldn't hear him, he muttered, "Love you."

I rolled over on the rug next to him, trying not to smile. It had been so long since I'd heard him say those words. But even I couldn't fool myself into believing that he meant them in the same way he once had. He was grateful for my friendship. That's all he'd meant. And I didn't want to let myself think about it, not when I was already so worried about the identity of this girl Sam thought he loved.

And I _was_ worried. I couldn't help it. If I knew who Sam was talking about, and I was pretty sure I did, then I _was_ worried about the potential effects this could have on Sam. I didn't blame him for not remembering. I was pretty sure I would've blocked her from memory too. She hadn't exactly been a friend to either of us. And I knew that if he had some faint idea, he wouldn't be in love with her. He _couldn't _be.

No, Sam didn't know. He had no idea what was going on. But me? I knew. I knew _exactly_ what was going on. There was only one explanation I could think of.

As Sam slept, I silently slid my phone out of my pocket and logged on to Facebook for the first time in weeks. Sure enough, there was a message there, as I knew there would be. The one message I hadn't expected until this moment, from a person I hadn't honestly wanted to hear from. But it only confirmed what I already knew.

Santana Lopez had come back to Lima.

**A/N: To the person who said in their review that they hated Santana, I am **_**so**_** sorry. I had already planned this chapter out. (In fact, I pretty much wrote it in my head while at track practice today. We aren't allowed to bring iPods, and I had nothing better to do. Haha.)**

**By the way, sorry about the semi-cliffhanger here. Didn't know how else to end this chapter!**

**Also, I haven't seen the new episode tonight yet, because I'm on California time, so… oh, crap! It started six minutes ago! Oh well, I forgot to DVR it so I'll have to watch it on Hulu tomorrow. But everyone on Twitter (many of whom are on East-Coast time) spoiled it for me anyways, so I kind of know what happens. Oh, and keep in mind that this fic happens assuming that Sam and Quinn broke up, but Sam DID NOT start dating Santana. Otherwise that might be weird of him not to remember!**

**Oh yeah, forgot I was going to make the Author's Notes shorter… oops.**


	7. Chapter 6

** A/N: For anyone who wonders, I hated the episode from Tuesday. I'm not entirely sure why, I just… well, I guess it just bothered me. I mean, not **_**every**_** high schooler in America is pressured to drink. My friends aren't into that kind of thing, and though I of course know people that are into drinking and drugs and stuff, it doesn't **_**have**_** to a part of your high school experience if you don't want it to be. Sorry for ranting. Anyway, I'm also really hating the Santana/Sam relationship. Good thing fanfiction exists so that stuff doesn't have to happen! :P**

** Also, sorry for not updating for the past couple of days… I like to update faster, but…well, it's kind of complicated, but I have a lot of stuff going on in my personal life right now, as well as several tests this past week and the first week of track practice. (Distance running is my event, if you were wondering. Which you probably weren't. Okay, I really need to stop rambling.)**

** Oh yeah, if anyone is an SWAC fan, I just began a Sonny/Chad story: Violet Socks and A Deadly Promise. Check it out if you want! **

** ANYWAY, thanks for all the reviews. I appreciate every single one of them! You guys are the best!**

** DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sam, Quinn, Santana, or any other character that appears on the Fox show Glee. (Unfortunately. ****)**

I had no idea what I was supposed to do, what I could possibly tell Sam. For some reason, the Santana situation was stressing me out a lot more than I had thought it would, I guess because I was already in love with Sam myself. I just didn't know what to do, so I tried to fall asleep to clear my head. (They say sleeping on major decisions helps.) But I was restless.

I tossed and turned for what felt like a lifetime, but couldn't have been more than a few hours. I listened to Sam's quiet breathing, and it comforted me to hear the peacefulness with which he slept. One time, he muttered something in his sleep. At first, I thought it was my name he said, but then thought I was probably imagining things. A "love you" and saying my name in his sleep in one night? I wouldn't even let myself imagine it. Especially tonight, when Sam had just fallen in love with Santana, of all people. As he slept on, I was alone with my thoughts, but I honestly hadn't thought up anything productive by the time Sam woke up and got ready to leave. I was still awake when he left, but I pretended to be asleep. I didn't want to face him yet with the knowledge I had, since I hadn't yet figured out how to proceed.

As he got up, he said my name a couple of times, I guess to check whether or not I was still awake, and then covered me with his jacket (it was unusually cold in my house that night, though I thought I had just imagined the low temperature since I was upset.) Then Sam turned off the lights and left, taking an extra minute to make sure the door was locked.

After he was gone, I got up from the rug, not letting myself take Sam's jacket with me, even though I wanted to. Instead, I folded it and put it on the coffee table so I would remember to give it back to him. I wish I had noticed Sam's phone, which had fallen out of his pocket, lying on the rug a few feet away from me. But I didn't see it lying there in the darkness.

I took as long as possible straightening the living room up, not bothering to turn the lights on. I knew my house well enough to know where everything was. All I really had to do was put the magazine that had fallen off my lap back on the coffee table and take an empty water glass from the coffee table into the kitchen. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I knew it was time. I had to finally revert to my seventh grade habits that I'd put off for so long. I couldn't wait any longer. I went to my room and sat cross-legged on my bed, the lights dimmed, and took the picture of Rachel from my night table.

For several long moments I stared at her picture, the picture of my beautiful little sister. She looked peaceful, as though she could be sleeping, but I knew that those eyes had never opened. I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. Looking at that picture of Rachel always puts things in perspective for me, and I realize how small the problems I face really are, especially in comparison to Rachel's fate.

But the picture, though it reminds me of the peace I finally found as I tried to cope with Rachel's death, is a sad reminder of the first time I learned of Rachel's existence.

Imagine, if you will, that you had been begging for a pet dog your whole life. It was all you could think about, and it was the first thing on your list every birthday. One day, you discover that you always had a pet dog, it was right there your whole life, and you only didn't know about it because your parents hid it from you. But before you can get excited, you find out that there is no dog anymore. The dog died a long time ago, and you never even got to know it. You have no memories of it, and you can't even mourn its loss because the truth is that the dog died years ago, but your parents denied its very existence until they finally gave in and mentioned it after the fact. Then you are forced to ask yourself whether there was even a point in having the dog, since you never formed a relationship with it. And you realize that you can't always get what you want, but reflecting on the gifts you didn't know you had can only make you stronger.

But I didn't feel stronger. Not to begin with, anyway. My soul was ripped apart that day. Because my parents had waited so long for me to find out on my own, I hadn't been allowed to mourn. I was reacting to something that had taken place twelve years earlier, and it had been such a blow to me that it drastically changed who I was and who I would become.

The worst part about it was that I had nowhere to go for help. The pain was pounding on me like a hailstorm on a tin roof. To anyone else, I would have seemed crazy; most twelve-year-olds don't really know or care about stillborn children, and while I certainly knew people that would be sympathetic, sympathy and understanding are as far apart as the sun and Pluto.

I didn't want to see a shrink or anything. As far as I was concerned, it was more important to pretend things were normal so I could avoid being bullied. Though therapy would have helped me feel better, I knew it couldn't help my social situation.

My parents didn't want to talk about Rachel. I had tried to go to them, to ask them how they coped, how they made it through the nightmare it had become for me, but they turned me away. All through my first few years of high school I struggled with that. I honestly believe that the reason I ended up pregnant was because I was searching. Same reason I ended up with mono, too. I was still looking around me for some way to find comfort, and I was investing in a cheap way to feel better, not even knowing that it would help me in the long run. Finally, sick of looking everywhere around me for a peace that couldn't be found, I was forced to look within. There, I was able to find the strength to get through the discovery and move on, not to get on with my life, but rather to start a new one, as a new Quinn Fabray.

It hadn't been until years later that I realized I wasn't the only one searching. My father's affair, my mother being unable to stand up for herself for so long, my sister's lack of communication with our family… all were attempts to find a way to cope. I just hadn't realized it at the time.

But looking down at that picture of Rachel brought it all back. The insecurity I'd felt as a twelve-year-old, the helplessness I'd felt when I first learned about Rachel, and the way I'd finally decided on a career so I could help other families like mine.

"Rachel, when did this happen?" I asked softly. "When did I go from trying to help other families to focusing only on my love for my best friend? I haven't even been working lately, this isn't where I thought I'd be."

Of course, there was no answer, and I expect it would have frightened me badly if there had been.

Before I knew it, I was crying. Looking at the picture so intensely brought back feelings I had buried deep inside myself, vowing not to think of them again. I remembered the way I'd felt when I witnessed my father crying. I remembered the bullying. I remembered how I used to come home from school crying every day, because no one understood what I was going through, and there was no one who cared enough to help me. And lastly, I remembered the move from South Bend to Lima, how upset I'd been with Rachel, believing it was her fault for leaving me alone. And I hadn't bothered speaking to her since. Those had been the worst moments of my life.

I had never gone back to talking to Rachel after the move. There were times when I wanted to, but I wouldn't let myself. I believed that it was Rachel's fault that I had to start over and prove myself. Somehow I blamed her death, which was a tragic event that couldn't be prevented, on her. I blamed her for my not making the cheerleading squad in junior high, sure that that contributed to my status as a social outcast. It's funny how when the chips are down, all you want to do is point the finger at someone else, even though you really should be pointing it to yourself. And after I was convinced it was Rachel's fault that I was so alone, I'd chosen to blame every problem, every struggle in my own life on her as well.

But now I knew better. Sure, I'd felt guilty for blaming my own problems on her, but I hadn't honestly thought that _I_ was to blame. And now I realized that I hadn't ever really stopped searching, because I hadn't forgiven myself for resenting my sister. And I had never even apologized to her for what I'd done.

Looking at my tiny, innocent sister, I can't imagine how I could've blamed her for anything. She was so small and perfect, and she reminded me of my daughter Beth, who I also hadn't allowed myself to think about in a long time. It was then that I knew why I'd come in and picked up that photo of Rachel, something I hadn't done since junior high. I had come to apologize. So I looked down at her sweet, innocent face through my tears. But doing so made them really start to flow.

"I'm sorry, Rachel." I sobbed. "I started out trying to take away someone else's pain, and I can't even do it. I'm stuck in my own pain, still, and I can't move forward. It's not your fault, Rachel. I'm so, so sorry."

I had been so wrapped up in myself that I hadn't heard the front door unlock and open. But now, as I wiped my eyes, I noticed a figure in my doorway. Sam had come back, and he had heard me crying. I had no idea how many of my words he had heard, though. He was staring at me, shocked. Finally, he spoke. "Who's Rachel?" He asked.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of action in this chapter. (And the cliffhanger.) I felt like I hadn't really addressed Quinn's emotions about the death of her sister, and since it's one of the only things she's never told Sam, I thought it might be a good time for him to find out.**

** There's probably going to be a lot of drama coming up in the next few chapters. I promise that I WILL really get into the Santana situation as well as Sam's reaction to Quinn's loss. I apologize for all the narration and lack of dialogue. I PROMISE there is more action coming up! Thanks for reading, and please review if you have a minute!**


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: So… there isn't much drama in this chapter. I decided to go a different route than I had planned. I think you'll like this chapter a lot, though, regardless. I hope Sam doesn't seem out of character at all. But there will be more drama coming up for Sam and Quinn.

** Was I the only one who thought there was going to be a new episode yesterday? I went to watch it on Hulu today, and it turned out there wasn't one! I just hope we don't have another long wait. Although I guess writing fanfiction makes the wait seem shorter. **

** Enjoy this chapter, and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to the awesome reviewers. (And everyone who has read any part of this story, for that matter.) You guys rock! If you want, you can review this chapter too. (Hint, hint.) No, but seriously, I'll love you forever if you do. (And probably if you don't, too, but that's hardly the point. Oh, I'm rambling again. Okay. Moving on.)**

** DISCLAIMER: Glee isn't mine.**

I didn't say anything at first. I _couldn't_ say anything. I was suddenly overcome by the realness of the moment, the fact that whatever I chose to say could influence my relationship with Sam for the rest of my life.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how he would take it. But I decided to swallow my fears and finally let it all out. I hadn't ever told anyone about Rachel, and maybe it was finally time to stop holding the secret to myself. After all, I reasoned, if I were to tell anyone, it would be Sam, so I may as well be completely honest with him. And if he didn't understand? Well, I chose not to let myself think about that.

When I didn't say anything right away, I saw concern and compassion appear in Sam's eyes. He came over to the bed where I was sitting, my body still shaking with sobs, and said gently, "Quinn, what happened?"

Before I could change my mind, I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. "Sam," I began, "There's something I never told you. Well, something I never told anyone."

I saw the concern in his eyes turn into alarm. He sat down on the bed next to me, but said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

"This is a picture of my sister." I told him, knowing he wouldn't understand right away.

He didn't. "Frannie?" He asked, looking confused.

I swallowed hard to keep away a fresh wave of tears. "No." I said. "This is my twin sister, Rachel. She… she passed away."

The swallowing hadn't helped, and I began to cry again, harder this time. As good as it felt to finally tell someone, I was so afraid of his reaction.

Sam said nothing out loud. Instead, he pulled me to his chest, letting me cry on his shoulder, just holding me gently. He gently rubbed my back as I cried. I knew I was getting his shirt all wet and gross with my tears, but he didn't seem to mind. It felt good to be in his arms again, and I began to wonder if I'd made the right choice in letting him go. But then I remembered that I'd done it for his benefit, not mine, and I focused on just letting myself be comforted by him.

It was then that I realized I was finally healing. Ever since I had learned about Rachel, not one person had held me and comforted me like Sam. My parents hadn't even attempted to comfort me. But all along, I guess all I needed was the support.

When I had collected myself enough to speak again, I decided I had some explaining to do.

"Rachel was stillborn." I told him. "And I didn't even know she existed until I was twelve. My parents kept it from me. I had to find out on my own."

"How did you…?" He trailed off. I could tell he was trying hard not to be insensitive.

"I wanted to try out for cheerleading." I told him. "I had to provide a copy of my birth certificate, and when I found that, I discovered I was a twin. But my parents didn't really want to talk about it. They kind of told me what happened to her and that was it. It was like it was no big deal to them anymore. But I know it's what tore our family apart in the end."

"Oh, Quinn." He said softly. And that seemed to be enough to get my tears going again.

"It's just," I told him, "I'd always felt sort of alone. And I felt that by knowing, it was taking away some of the happiness I could have had in a companion. Especially a twin sister. Frannie was so much older than me that she may as well have been a cousin or an older relative, it was like I was an only child." I let this sink in, waiting for his reaction.

"What did you do?" He asked. "When you found out? I can't even imagine hoe hard that must have been."

"I didn't know _what_ to do." I said. "I missed Rachel. So much. I know it doesn't make sense, since I never even met her, but it felt like, by knowing who I had lost, I had lost her again. And I couldn't let that happen. So I started talking to her like she was never gone."

"When did you talk to her?" He asked softly, and I knew he was asking so he could understand, not because he wanted me to relive my grief.

"It started out only at night." I responded. "But then I started talking to her at school when I thought no one was paying attention to me. But it turned out someone was, and that's when I started getting bullied."

This, too, I had never told him. I'd never told anyone at McKinley of my hidden past, actually. By the time I'd moved to Lima, I was determined to be strong and outgoing, the kind of girl everyone looks up to. And I'd never felt the need to share details of why I'd become that way.

"It got so bad that my family had to move away between seventh and eighth grade." I continued. I knew I had now come to a crossroads in the conversation. I had an important choice now: should I tell him why I had to apologize to Rachel, or keep something private?

After a pause, I decided to finish the story. I owed it to Sam. And, I realized later, I owed it to myself.

"I stopped talking to Rachel after we moved." I said. "I blamed her for our move, and for being bullied, and being alone…everything. I felt that it was her fault; that she'd left me alone to fend for myself. So, in a sense, I left her in South Bend where I used to live, and I never looked back. Until now."

"And…" He hesitated. "Why now?"

"I don't know." I told him. The truth was that I needed her again, after I'd discovered that he was in love with Santana, but we had both chosen to forget that for the moment. And I guess that wasn't the only reason. It wasn't as though I'd forgotten about her in high school, or anything. I just put myself first, and pushed my desire to talk to her away. But pushing gets tiring after a while.

"I guess it was just time to apologize." I finished. "I missed her. I mean, I always kept her picture right there on my night table, but I never went back to the way I used to be with her, and I missed it. And I realized, well, the realization was a long time coming, but I finally realized that I had to apologize for what I did. Does that sound stupid? I mean, that I still talk to her like she's here?"

He shook his head. "Not at all." He answered. "The people you love will never really leave you. It sounds cliché, but no matter where she is now, she's your sister. And just because she's not here with you now doesn't mean she's abandoned you."

I nodded. "I know that now." I said. "I think that's why I was finally able to apologize. She's still here, in a way. And I guess that's why I can move on."

He nodded, not saying anything. Then understanding washed over his face as he looked at the picture. "Quinn?" He asked. "Can I ask you something?"

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I think I could already tell what his question was from the look on his face.

"Why are you a photographer?" He asked. "I mean why are you _really_ a photographer? It's because of Rachel, isn't it?"

I was glad he asked. It meant that he understood my story, what I was trying to tell him. But I knew he would. It was one of the reasons he was my best friend. "I wanted to help other people heal." I told him. "At least, that's what I wanted originally. My parents didn't like to talk about Rachel. So finding this photo really helped me move forward from my loss. And I wanted to help other families like that. But… I just stopped, somewhere along the way. I guess I got caught up in life, or myself, or something, but I just forgot about helping everyone else."

"Quinn." He said, shaking his head. "I want you to listen to me. You never stopped helping people heal. I would know. Maybe you weren't doing it through pictures, like you originally intended, but you brought me out of a bad place, a place I didn't want to be. And you did that in the midst of your own pain."

I laughed softly. "That's comforting, Sam, but that was one person. And when I started out, I wanted to bring peace to families the way these pictures of Rachel brought peace to me. And I did do that for awhile, but then I got into weddings, and I think I stopped focusing on what was really important."

"But you didn't." He told me. "Don't you understand what I'm telling you? You thought it was the photos, but it wasn't. You found your mission in life, Quinn: to help people. And regardless of how you see yourself, that's all you've done since the moment I met you."

"That isn't true." I told him. "In high school, I did a lot of things I regret. I was not a good person, Sam. You know that, you know how I treated people."

"I'm not saying you didn't make mistakes." He responded, avoiding answering what I had just said. "But do you honestly think that you were, for a time, the leader of the school because you were a bad person? People are led by example, Quinn. No one looks up to you because you suck." He laughed. "I don't know why we're having this conversation; it's so far off from the original topic. But my point is, Quinn, that whether or not you believe it, Rachel helped you accomplish your goal. You've done what she inspired you to do. You just might not have recognized it, because it wasn't the way you planned."

I smiled. "I never thought of it that way."

"I guess you just needed another perspective." He commented, as he got up to leave for the second time that night. "Thanks for being honest with me, Quinn. I know it was really hard for you to talk about, and it means a lot that you trusted me to tell me this."

"I'm just sorry I didn't tell you earlier." I told him. "I just felt like talking about it might make it hurt more. It might bring the memories back."

"And how do you feel now?" He asked.

"Better." I smiled.

A/N: No, I haven't forgotten the Santana storyline. That's coming next. I just felt like I hadn't addressed the fact that Quinn didn't tell Sam why she's hurting, and I needed to fix that. This is a step forward in the developing relationship of Sam and Quinn, in my opinion. Hope you enjoyed it.

Oh, again, total product placement here, but if anyone is an SWAC fan, I did write the first chapter of a Chad/Sonny fic, and you can find it on my profile page. Also on my profile page is a poll asking which characters I should write for next, so if you want, vote and let me know. (If the pairing you want isn't listened, PM me and we'll talk about it.) Again, thank you so much for all the support!


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: First off, I am SO sorry for the hiatus. Like I said before, I'm a distance runner for the track team at my school, and…well, at least at my school, distance runners are always the first people to begin and the last to leave track practice every day. Plus I've had A TON of schoolwork. But enough about me. I'm going to get this long overdue chapter going.**

** P.S. THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES to my reviewers. If you've been reading, but not reviewing, feel free to let me know your thoughts on the story/chapter. I really appreciate all of them.**

** OH! And again, if you're an SWAC fan, PLEASE go check out my semi-new Sonny/Chad fic. Thanks!**

** DISCLAIMER: Only the plot is mine. Unfortunately, Fox owns the characters. **

At that point, Sam and I decided that he shouldn't even bother leaving to go home. It was past two in the morning, so he decided to crash on my couch for the rest of the night.

He left my room, stopping to give me a hug good night. (At which point I really had to make myself settle down. I mean, really, you're not _supposed_ to feel anything when your best friend hugs you.)

Despite how much better I felt having finally come clean with Sam, I still had some lingering guilt from not telling him what I knew about Santana. But I was exhausted and I had to work in the morning, (well, it _was_ morning, but you know what I mean.) so I made myself stop worrying about it and fall asleep.

When I woke up, about twenty minutes later than I had planned, I hurriedly got dressed and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. When I got into the kitchen, though, Sam was already sitting there, at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. In the back of my mind, I imagined this same morning, years later, with Sam as my husband, making a home together.

But I pushed those thoughts away, said good morning, and poured a cup of coffee for myself. I let him know that I had a photoshoot with a high school marching band in an hour, and asked what he would be doing.

My heart sank a little as he told me that he was working in Lima again, and was going to try and find the girl he'd seen the night before. As always, I pulled myself together, wishing him luck and asking him whether or not we had dinner plans.

"I guess it depends on whether I find her or not." Sam answered. "I'll come over at some point for sure. Maybe for dinner; maybe after. Okay?"

I nodded, gave him a quick hug goodbye, and got my things together to go to work. As I left, I honestly wasn't thinking about what would happen if Sam discovered what I knew. I really wasn't. I mean, I didn't think he'd be _mad_ if he found out it was Santana and that I knew she was back, but he'd probably not be _happy_. It didn't matter anyway, I reassured myself. Sam wasn't going to find Santana.

I guess if I really thought about it, I would have felt badly for hoping Sam wouldn't find her. I mean, as his best friend, I should want him to be happy. Be to be honest, I wanted to be happy too. And I just couldn't see that happening without him.

The photoshoot was uneventful as always. I'm just recently started doing school shoots, and I can't say I like them much. I mean, the kids are fine, but I don't like going to the high schools much. It forces me to remember some of my high school days, and there are just some things I don't feel like remembering. Not to say that my high school experience was _all_ bad. It wasn't. But I can't say it enjoyed it all either.

I finished the shoot at around noon, and began to pack up my equipment. As I did so, I got a text from Sam that said: "Can't wait to see you tonight. I have so much to tell you. I FOUND HER!"

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled, but I was happy that Sam was obviously happy. So I texted back: "Should we plan on dinner?"

"No." Came his response. "But I'll be over after dinner. Maybe nine-ish?"

I didn't respond, but it didn't matter. I knew he'd take my lack of response to mean that the plan was fine by me. Like I said, I wasn't thrilled, but in spite of myself, I wanted the details.

The rest of my day seemed to go on forever. I had errands to run, picking up clothes from the dry cleaner among other things, but mostly I just did things to keep myself busy. You have to, in situations like that. If you don't, you'll lose your mind.

When I got back to my house, it was about four-thirty in the afternoon. I unpacked the groceries I'd bought. (I hadn't _needed_ anything, but had gone to the store because I had nothing better to do with myself. I did, however, buy some ice cream, that I might need after hearing all about Sam and Santana.)

I still had four and a half hours to kill, so I took a long shower and got dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I knew it didn't matter what I was wearing; Sam wouldn't care. And I doubt he'd notice either way. Anyway, by that time, I still had four hours until Sam came over. (I know, this whole thing is making me sound really pathetic, like my whole day revolves around him, and it doesn't, usually, but it did that day.)

Finally, I sat down in front of the TV, watching some show about gardening but only half listening. As usual, my mind was somewhere else. It seemed kind of weird to me that Sam had been so comforting the night before when we'd talked about Rachel, but so ready to jump back into his search for his mystery girl in the morning. But I guess it was good that he'd been that way. After all, I didn't want him feeling sorry for me; that wouldn't help anything. And I _was_ glad I'd come clean. I guess I just expected things between us to be a little bit different after what I'd shared. But maybe it was a beautiful thing that they _weren't_ different. I decided that he was probably trying to give me a sense of normalcy, not because what I said didn't matter, but because he really wanted me to heal and not dwell on it any longer.

After what seemed like an hour of the gardening show, but must have only been around twenty minutes, I fell asleep. In my dream, I was alone. It was dark and cold, and I was very afraid. I'm not sure where I was, though. All I could tell was that I was somewhere on the floor. It was so dark I could hardly see my hand in front of my face. And then, suddenly, there they were. Sam and Santana. Just their two illuminated figures. I was still sitting in the darkness. It was like watching a play, almost. I could hear them and see them, but I don't think they could see or hear me. It was like Scrooge in _A Christmas Carol_.

"I just really want to see Quinn." Sam was saying. "I miss her."

"No, you don't." Santana answered. "She left you when she heard about me. She doesn't want you. You can't go back to that."

"Can't I just go talk to her?" Sam asked.

"Sam, we're in LA now." Santana answered. "You came out here with me because you didn't _want_ to go back to her. And I'm not about to let you leave now."

"Maybe she's changed her mind." Sam said, his voice pleading like a little kid.

"Sam, you need to listen to me." Santana snapped, her voice suddenly sharp. "This isn't the first time she's done this to you. Do you not remember high school? Because I do. And you can't put all your faith in someone who isn't worth it. They're only going to let you down. This time, you're not going back, Sam."

Sam nodded, and they turned to walk away, but not before I saw a tear roll down his cheek. And then suddenly their lights were out, and I was left by myself in the darkness again.

I didn't wake up right away. But when I did, I knew one thing: I was not going to let Sam go, no matter what happened with Santana. I couldn't do that to him again. But the dream had also reminded me of something else: Santana's trickery. In high school, she was the queen of using people. And even now, I could tell from my dream, she had Sam right where she wanted him. And if I knew Santana at all, I knew it was up to me to keep Sam safe.

It's funny how dreams can take a situation that should take a span of about ten minutes, and make it last two hours. When I woke up, I only had a little over an hour until Sam had said he would come over. I wasn't excited so much as I was anxious. I got up from the couch and went to the kitchen, deciding to make chicken soup for dinner. While the soup was cooking, I wandered around the kitchen, idly straightening things to keep my hands busy.

I took a rotisserie chicken I'd bought from the store earlier that day from the fridge and began to cut it up, adding the pieces to the pot. I cut up vegetables and added them as well, concentrating on the soup so I didn't have to think of anything else.

At last, I heard the key turn in the door, and Sam walked into the kitchen, setting his keys down on the counter. "It smells really good in here." He commented.

"I'm almost done." I answered, not turning away from the stove. "Do you want some?"

I could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, "No, I already ate."

I carefully ladled some soup into my bowl and carried it over to the kitchen table. "So… what happened today?"

He sat down across from me. "Well, I found her. It was an accident, really. I was working, and then… there she was."

"Where were you working?" I asked.

"In Lima. I had to go back to the club I was at last night, and I guess she works there."

That didn't surprise me. Well, maybe a little bit. I mean, it made sense that Santana would work in a club, but I hadn't thought that she was coming back to Lima to get a job.

"But it's just a temporary thing." He continued. "She lives in LA, and she is just moving here for a few months. But she used to live here. And, I was right, she did go to high school with us."

I didn't answer. I already knew what he was going to say next.

"It turns out," He said, giving me a very strange, but intent, look, "that she was also in Glee club with us. Santana Lopez."

I didn't say anything, casually taking a bite of my soup. But Sam seemed to be waiting for me to respond. Finally, I asked, "What are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?" He asked. "I think it's interesting that we used to know her. Why should it make a difference?"

I very nearly blurted out something rude then, but stopped myself just in time. I wondered if Sam had completely forgotten what Santana had been like back when we had known her.

"So, you still want to go out with her?" I asked. I guess Sam registered my tone of surprise, because his next answer was not what I was expecting.

"You knew." He said quietly. "You knew, and you didn't tell me."

I didn't answer, yet again. Really, in these situations, it's best not to confirm or deny anything. Anything you say can and will be used against you.

"Quinn, how could you do that?" He asked. "Why would you keep something like that from me?"

"I'm sorry!" I said. "I just wasn't exactly in the mood to talk about Santana last night."

"I know last night was hard for you." He said in an even tone. "But Quinn, I trusted you in telling you what was going on when I saw her for the first time, and I thought I trusted you enough to tell me that you had information I needed!"

"Look, you found out anyway!" I answered. "So what does it matter that I didn't tell you? I knew you'd find her eventually."

"That doesn't matter." He said, and it was almost funny how quickly the tone of our conversation had changed: from a lighthearted account of his evening to an exchange that could easily turn into a fight.

Then he continued. "I thought we were best friends, Quinn. I thought we told each other everything. Last night you opened up to me so much. I just can't believe that of all things, you would keep the Santana information from me."

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" I asked. "This is nothing. What I knew doesn't matter. You know more about her than I do now."

We were both standing now; my soup was cooling quickly on the table, easily forgotten by both of us.

"I just can't believe you wouldn't tell me." He said. "Maybe things would be different if I had known all along that it was Santana. Because I came here to tell you that I wasn't sure I was going to go out with her again. But you know what? I think I will."

"Fine!" I snapped back. "Go out with her. Go ahead and marry her, for all I care. She'll just leave you when you go crazy after she keeps one detail from you!"

Time seemed to stop for a second, and we both just stood there, not believing what I had just said. Sam's mouth was open, and he closed his eyes, as if he could just erase my words. But a tear escaped his eyes as he did so.

Finally, he opened his eyes and spoke. "I can't believe you, Quinn." He said. "You're supposed to be happy for me. You're the one person that is supposed to love me no matter what kind of flaws I have. But if you're not ready to be that friend, then neither am I."

With that, he took his keys and left. I didn't chase after him. I know I'd promised myself I wouldn't let him go, but it was like I couldn't move. I didn't dare. Finally, I sank down into a chair, buried my face in my hands, and let my own tears fall.

It had turned out just like my dream. Sam had gone away, crying, and I was left by myself in the dark, with no idea what to do next.


	10. Chapter 9

** A/N: I know you're probably getting sick of all my excuses for not updating, but I'm trying. Really I am. And I've been trying to get a chapter up every weekend. So even though it's past 10 PM California time, which means 1AM for all you East Coasters, I hope you still know that I honestly tried to get this up on Sunday. I can't believe that I'm on Chapter 10! I started this out with a short single chapter just because it popped into my mind, and nine chapters later, I'm **_**still**_** having fun with it! Yay!**

** Also, I did write a Quinn hurt/comfort one shot earlier this week, hoping to tide anyone that wanted more Quinn over until I could update this story again. Unfortunately, only one person felt compelled to read/review. (Thanks to my faithful friend, lifeisveryshortsoami, who I threatened to behead via Twitter if she didn't read/review. So basically no one **_**chose**_** to read it. Oh well.) So anyways, if anyone was unaware of its existence and wants to read it, feel free! It deals with the absence of Quinn's father and how it affects her as she approaches her wedding.**

** Also, I will again remind you about my SWAC (Sonny/Chad pairing) fic, that I've currently written one chapter of. I am unsure as to whether or not I will finish it at the moment, but I will definitely wait until I am done writing this story.**

** THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone that has read/reviewed this story so far. You guys make me want to keep writing. I really appreciate every single review. If you read but don't review, feel free to just say hi! Thanks so much! Also, let me know in your review if you want me to read/review any of your work. I don't post reviews that often usually, but I'd love to return the favor, so… let me know!**

**And now, I'm getting back to the actual story. I still don't own any of the licensed Glee characters. Thanks.**

I stayed there, slouched in my chair at the table for a long time. I don't know how long, but it felt like forever. I didn't get up to turn the overhead light on, even though the room had grown dark save for the light above the stove. I did nothing except sit there, wondering why I had again made such a terrible mistake. I hadn't let myself relieve the first breakup Sam and I had had, back in high school, since the very day it occurred.

But now I knew that it was time to go back. I had to remember that first breakup, so many years before. It had been so different, and yet so much the same. But the pain was more real this time, as it reminded myself that I was once again completely and utterly alone. In that knowledge, I put my head down and replayed the memory, finally forcing myself into a flashback I hadn't allowed myself to have in a long time.

_We were in my backyard again, but it wasn't the same as it had been the day we'd made our promises. It was winter now, and the trees were bare skeletons. There was snow on the ground, but not much, and it was melting anyway. I'd requested a private talk with Sam, and he'd happily obliged, not guessing the nature of the conversation I intended. As I walked, I hardened myself, protecting myself form the hurtful words I knew I was about to deliver. As I had begun to speak, he'd only stood there silently, as though he didn't want to believe what I was saying. I didn't blame him. I didn't want to believe it either._

"_Quinn, how could you do this?" Sam's voice was soft, but I almost wished he was yelling. Somehow the quiet disappointment seemed a thousand times worse than any screaming. _

_ "Sam, please understand! I don't have a choice. I have to break up with you." I hoped he would understand from the pleading in my voice that I didn't want to do it anymore than he did._

_ "You don't have to do anything." He said. "I know you've been hurt before. Do you think I haven't? You mean something to me, Quinn. I would never hurt you."_

_ I shook my head, as though doing so would stop reason from creeping into my thoughts. "Sam, I can't go on like this anymore. This year was supposed to be about me. I have to get focused, keep my grades up. I don't have time to be with you." Even as I said the words, they killed me._

_ "This doesn't make sense." He said, looking at me intently as if to make me crack and say it was all a joke._

_ "What doesn't make sense?" I asked. "Sam, I've told you everything. I want out. I don't love you anymore. That's it." My voice was firm, unwavering. I watched as the words, my lie, broke him._

_ "Then that's all you had to say." He said quietly. His eyes were filling with tears, and I watched as he turned away and slowly began walking toward the gate that would lead him out of my backyard, his footsteps softly crunching on the leftover snow._

_ "Sam!" I called, immediately wanting to fix the mistake I'd just made._

_ He turned around. "We're done, Quinn. I never thought you'd do this to me."_

_ "Can we still…?" I trailed off; he knew what I meant._

_ Slowly, carefully, he shook his head. "I can't be friends with someone like you, Quinn. Someone who takes love and messes it all up. I should've known. But I guess you aren't who I thought you were."_

_ "No, Sam, please." The begging was back in my voice now. When I'd thought about ending it before, I had never imagined it would hurt so much. _

_ "I just can't believe you would just end it like this." He said, and I couldn't tell whether he was talking to me or himself. "I guess I thought I meant something to you. After all we've been through together. I just never imagined you'd make me feel like this."_

_ "Sam, I swear, I…" I trailed off again, not even knowing what I was going to say in the first place._

_ "Save it, Quinn." He said, turning away again. "I don't think I can stand another minute with you. Goodbye."_

_ With that, he walked away. And we didn't speak again for the rest of high school._

I had hated myself for doing it, I really had. But at the same time, I felt that it was necessary. I had fallen too hard for Sam. And I knew from experience that I couldn't let myself be so vulnerable for anyone again. I knew that I had to break Sam's heart in order to protect myself. So, as much as it killed me, I did it. And looking out for number one never, even in the years that followed, hurt so badly.

I remembered the weeks following our breakup just as clearly as I remembered our final conversation. I hadn't felt so alone since I'd learned about Rachel. After awhile, I started to heal. But the thing about moving on is that it doesn't mean you forget.

I still had to see Sam at school every day, after all. But we stopped saying hello to each other, and people, surprisingly enough, gave us our space. Mr. Schuester stopped pushing us to do duets, and whenever we happened to hang around the same group of friends, we didn't interact with each other. I think the space helped me heal, actually. I doubt jumping into a friendship with Sam would have allowed me the time I needed. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt to see him, flirting with different girls as he began his own healing process.

But this was different. That was last time, and this time I had no idea what the future held. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do. So I didn't do anything. I let a week pass, then two, and still no call from Sam.

After two weeks had gone by, I began to wonder if I should make the first move. I had expected us to be friends again by then, and it made me wonder if Sam and I had really been as close as I thought we were. With no other idea, I turned to Facebook. I was surprised that Sam hadn't unfriended me if he meant for our separation to be so dramatic, but then I realized that that didn't really mean anything. Perhaps he was just too caught up in his new relationship with Santana.

And sure enough, Sam and Santana were officially in a relationship. At least, that's what Facebook told me. I briefly wondered which would hurt more: not knowing about their relationship or having to hear every detail about it from Sam. For the first time, I was momentarily grateful he wasn't speaking to me.

But I knew just as well that if I ever wanted to reconcile, I had to step up and tell him. Over the years, I'd learned not to expect much from people. Everyone is going to hurt you, and everyone is going to let you down. And if you don't want to suffer, you better make your own decisions. You can't just wait around for someone else all the time. So it was with this in mind that I made my first step towards reconciling with Sam. After a deep breath, I scanned my phone for a number I hadn't used in years. And then, I called Santana.

"Quinn Fabray?" She asked, picking up. "Did you just call a wrong number?"

"No." I said, hoping my voice wasn't trembling as much as my hands were. "I meant to call you."

"Okay..." She said. "So…what's going on?"

"How's Lima?" I asked, unwilling to bring the conversation around to what, or rather, _who_, I really wanted to talk about.

"I guess it's okay." She answered. "I mean, it's nice to be back. But it's more weird than nice, I guess. It's so different here than what I've gotten used to."

Before I could lose my courage, I blurted out. "So, I hear you're with Sam Evans now."

"Yeah." She said. "But I'm going back to LA pretty soon. I'm trying to convince him to come with me."

I felt my stomach drop. "You're pretty serious, then?"

"Let's just say I think one of us is going to be asking a pretty important question pretty soon." She answered, and I mentally tried to convince myself I'd misunderstood her.

'It's too soon in their relationship,' I thought. 'She can't really mean that.' It's funny how lying to yourself is so easy sometimes, and so heartbreakingly difficult other times. Or I suppose funny isn't exactly the word. But you know what I mean.

I guess I was silent a few seconds too long, because she then said, "Quinn, why are you _really_ calling me?"

I didn't honestly have an answer ready for that, so I said, "I just haven't talked to Sam in awhile, and I wanted to know how the two of you were doing. You know, girl-to-girl."

Apparently she saw through my act, because Santana's voice was suddenly sharp, instantly reminding me of our high school days. "Look." She said. "Let me make something _very_ clear. I don't know what you did to Sam, and quite frankly I don't even care. I just know that everytime he starts to talk about you, he stops himself, like he's not allowed to say your name. But you know what, Quinn? I don't care about that either. All I want is to send a message to _you_: Sam Evans is mine now, and he's not coming back to you. We're done here." And with that, she hung up on me.

Whatever confusion I had had about making up with Sam was all gone in that moment. If there was one thing I had learned in high school, it was that Quinn Fabray never, _ever_ stops until she gets what she wants. And I knew then what my next step was: it was time to take down Santana Lopez.

**A/N: Two things: one, yes, I am very sorry for the awful cliffhanger. Tune in next week! And two, I felt this chapter, which may seem like some kind of filler to you, needed to come out, because some people were asking what happened during Quinn and Sam's original breakup. So I thought I should throw this story in there. Oh! One last thing, thing number three, I apologize for the lack of Sam in this chapter. I assure you, he'll be back and better than ever very, **_**very**_** soon.**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: I mentally kick myself every time I write a chapter, because I'm so worried the characters are going to act, well… out of character. I hope you'll understand what's going on with Sam in this chapter. It kind of addresses why he came to Quinn in the first place, as well as what's next in his relationship with Quinn. I hope it isn't terribly boring, and I'm so sorry if it is! This is a long overdue chapter, but I've been so busy lately! I do have a few long plane trips next week, so I'll probably have time to write a bit more then!**

**Please feel free to review if you are new to this story, and thanks so much to everyone that already does. You guys are awesome!**

**DISCLAIMER: One time I had a dream that I owned all the characters on Glee. The problem was that I then woke up and realized I don't. So, yeah, sorry. Only the plot is mine.**

I thought about my next move all night. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I knew what I was supposed to do but not how to go about it. Finally I came to a crucial conclusion: I had to take Santana down from the inside. And the only way to get there was to make up with Sam.

In the morning, I got dressed nicely and did my hair. I wasn't in any particular hurry, but I felt like I was moving faster than usual. I guess I was on autopilot, in order to make sure I went through with what I intended to do.

As I drove to Sam's house, I tried to come up with something to say in my mind. But I found that I had no idea what to say to him. I was just going to have to say whatever showed up in my head. But maybe, I knew, it would be better that way. Sam was my best friend, or had been, and he'd have been able to tell if my words were forced, scripted. So they wouldn't be.

When I got to his house, an unfamiliar car was in the driveway—a rental car which could only be Santana's. It was early, which to me meant that Santana had probably spent the night. This worried me more than you'd think. I knew Sam's morals, and I knew that, like me, chastity was one of his values. Had Santana changed him so deeply already? Calmly, I talked myself out of my sinking suspicions. After all, Sam had spent the night at my house before, and he slept on the couch. It didn't _have_ to mean anything.

I sat there in my car for several minutes, trying to gather the courage to get out and say what I needed to. Finally, I knocked on the door. I had my key still, but I knew better than to use it. The last thing I needed was to walk in on Sam and Santana doing something I didn't want to see.

Sam answered the door, and he was still half asleep, I could tell. He was wearing dark gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, and his hair was mussed. He even had a faint sheet line on his face, as though he'd only rolled out of bed when he heard my knock.

"Quinn?" He asked, confused. "What are you… what are you doing here?"

I swallowed hard. "I need to talk to you."

He scratched the back of his neck as he considered this, frowning. "Do you want to come in?"

I tried to avoid letting jealously sneak into my voice. "Is your girlfriend here?"

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, she's in the living room." It may have just been me, but I could've sworn he put extra emphasis on the words 'living room' as if to assure me nothing was going on.

"Okay, well, can we go out or something?" I asked. "I really would prefer to talk to you in private. I can wait for you to get ready…"

"Look, Quinn, I'm not sure that's a good idea." He said. "Santana told me you called yesterday. I just don't know if I can deal with this right now."

That stung. He had described our friendship, once one of the most important things in his life, as something he "didn't know if he could deal with." But while my mind was telling me to give up and go back home, I stayed there on the doorstep.

"Well, you have to." I told him. My voice was unintentionally sharp. "You made a promise. You can't go back on it!"

He sighed, then smiled. "You're right." He answered. "Come in while I get dressed."

I carefully stepped inside and walked into the familiar living room. Santana was there, asleep on the couch, which made me smile. It showed me Sam was still, at least in some ways, who he had been.

Quietly, I took a seat on the floor next to the fireplace. Sam never took long to get ready, and within a few minutes he came back into the room, his hair wet from his shower, dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt.

He went over to the couch and shook Santana gently. "Hey." He said softly, "I'm going out for a bit. If you leave before I get back I'll come over later, okay?" Santana said nothing, simply looking blankly at him and then closed her eyes again. Sam bent down, kissed her on the forehead, and then turned to me. "Ready?"

I stood up in response and we walked outside. Sam started to head towards my car, but I stopped him. "I'd like to walk." I told him, "If that's okay with you."

He nodded, but said nothing. We walked in silence for a few minutes, and again I pondered what to say. I was glad I hadn't driven anywhere, though, for some reason silence seems less awkward when you're taking a walk than in a car.

Finally, I began to speak. "I guess you know why I need to talk to you." I told him.

"You want to apologize?" He asked.

Sighing, I nodded. "I just… I needed you, Sam. You're my best friend, and the past two weeks have been so hard without you."

"I missed you too." He answered. "And I'm sorry, I know it was my fault too, I shouldn't have run out on you like that."

"I guess I was just worried about you and Santana." I said quietly. "I don't know what she's like now, but…" I trailed off, not wanting the words I had intended to say next to offend him.

"Look, Quinn," he answered, ignoring the fact that I hadn't finished what I was saying. "I went to Santana because I… I need stability. And after we had our fight, I was afraid you wouldn't want me in your life anymore. So… I went to someone who would take me in."

"Sam, I promised I'd always be there for you." I reminded him gently.

"I know." He said. "But things can change so quickly, you know? A single moment can change everything. Constants are hard to come by, and I knew that if… well, if I couldn't count on you, I just needed someone."

Those words hurt too. With tears in my eyes, I answered, "I'm sorry I wasn't trustworthy enough to be your constant, Sam. I should've been there, and I wasn't. But I promise, I'm not going to do that to you again."

He stopped walking and turned to face me. "That's what I thought when you became my best friend, Quinn. But something about the fight showed me that maybe we aren't meant to be friends. And… this wasn't the first time you've hurt me like that. I'm sure you remember what happened in high school."

It was the first time he'd mentioned our breakup since it had happened, and I didn't know how I should feel about that. His voice had been so devoid of emotion as he'd mentioned it, and I knew then that my current feelings were absolutely and possibly eternally unrequited.

"Sam, I am so very, very sorry about everything." I told him. "I swear to you, whatever happens, I'm not going to let you down again. I know I wasn't there for you when you needed it, but I'm coming to you as a friend now, and I'm asking for help. I miss being your best friend, and I can't just go on like this if we don't fix things. Please, take me back." My voice broke on the last word, and I knew the tears in my eyes were dangerously close to falling.

He sighed again. "I'm not going to lie to you, Quinn." He said. "I've missed you too, and I'm willing to go back to the way things were. But, I just don't know if I can. It… it gets complicated."

"Complicated how?" I asked.

He frowned as if in pain. "I wish you wouldn't ask me that."

"Noted." I answered. "But you can't just tell me you can't be friends with me anymore and not give a reason why. What is going on?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, looking down at his feet. "I don't know exactly what you said to Santana yesterday, but…last night, well…" He seemed reluctant to continue, and his eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"Well?" I prompted, completely unprepared for his next words.

"SheaskedmetogotoLAwithher." He spoke so fast I had no chance of comprehending it.

"What?"

He still wouldn't look up at me. "She asked me to move to LA and…and… marry her."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. He had been right before; one moment really could change everything. Sam, up until now, had been the one man in my life that I could legitimately see myself marrying and having a future with. And despite what Santana had said to me on the phone the day before, I hadn't expected to have that whole future pulled out from under me with one quick statement.

I thought he had finished speaking, but then he continued. "I haven't given her an answer yet. But I know she would prefer if we weren't friends anymore, Quinn."

I nodded. That much I had expected. I had one more question for him, and it was one I did not want to ask. Finally, quietly, I asked, "Sam, do you love her?"

It seemed like my question was one he had been trying to answer for himself, and he pondered it for a few long moments. Then, slowly, he answered. "I don't know. And frankly, I don't know if it even matters. I don't think you understand how bad things were for me, Quinn. And if Santana is going to be there for me, I don't think it even really matters what I feel for her. In all honesty, I'm not sure I even believe in love anymore."

"Oh, Sam!" I said. My heart broke for him in that moment. I was no longer thinking about it like a war between me and Santana about who could get Sam first, it was how to fix this terribly broken human being.

I pulled Sam into a hug. And a few seconds later, as we pulled apart, I knew what I had to say. "You're my best friend." I told him. "Despite everything that's happened these past few weeks, I want you to know that I still care for you. And I am going to keep that promise we made so long ago. And so if she is what you want, Sam, I'm not going to stop you. But I'm not going to forget. And I promise I'll be there for you if you ever change your mind."

He smiled at me and I could see tears forming in his eyes as well. I could tell he was struggling to grasp with the gravity of the decision he had to make, and I didn't blame him. But despite the words I'd spoken a few minutes earlier, I still knew that I wasn't done with Sam just yet. I wasn't going to let him go without a fight. And my intentions were still clear to me: I was going to get through to Santana no matter what decision Sam made. The question now was just the same as before: how was I going to pull it off?

**A/N: Ooh, I just remembered that I have to thank you guys for the reviews you left on my other Quinn story, "Letters You'll Never Send". Thanks so much for that, and if you haven't read it yet, feel free to read/review! Thanks!**

**Oh yeah! Another thing I forgot: okay, so, someone in the reviews (at the moment I can't remember who it was) commented that they would like to read Sam's point of view in some of this story. Well, I thought about that for a while, and from a writer's standpoint I don't want to do that, because it would get confusing for me to write it, and also, probably, for the reader, if I kept switching the point of views. However, I wonder if anyone else was wondering about Sam's view of this whole thing. And so, I had an idea. (Again, this is just an **_**idea**_**, but please let me know in your review what you think.) So, I know that Stephenie Meyer wrote the **_**Twilight**_** series (which I hate, by the way, if you were wondering. Okay. Off topic.) from Bella's point of view, but then she **_**also**_** wrote a book called **_**Midnight Sun**_**, which was basically like **_**Twilight**_**, only from Edward's point of view. So, if anyone's interested in reading Sam's point of view, I might consider writing this story through his eyes after I'm done…anyway, again, that's just a thought, but please let me know if you're interested!**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: SO SORRY for the long break. My computer got a virus, and I had to get it fixed. So I didn't have access to it for like a week, and then I was traveling for much of my spring break. But enough excuses, I'm really going to try to get the next two chapters up quickly.**

** THANKS A MILLION to everyone that has read and/or reviewed this story. You guys are fantastic.**

** Disclaimer: If Glee was mine, Sam/Quinn, Finn/Rachel, and Will/Emma would still be together. So, yeah, you guessed it… I don't own Glee.**

Sam and I didn't talk on the way back. He seemed far away, deep in thought, and I guess I was too. By the time Sam and I had walked back to his house, I had formed a plan in my mind. It was a risky plan, and possibly not a very effective one, but it was still a plan, and that was better than nothing.

When we got back to the house, I reminded him that my offer was still open. I was there if he needed someone, if he decided not to choose Santana.

He thanked me, but still seemed miles away, as if he were responding on autopilot, not really knowing what I was saying. I didn't walk him to the door, but I watched him go, making sure the door was closed before I put phase one of my plan into action.

Santana's car was still in the driveway, which made me happy. It was vital that her car still be there in order for things to run smoothly. Cautiously, so I wouldn't be in view from any of Sam's windows, I crept closer to her car, making my way towards the passenger door in the front seat.

From that angle, I glanced at the front seat of her car, but was disappointed not to find anything. I had been hoping to find some evidence of her workplace. My plan was to confront her there, after work, and let her know that her little game with Sam was no longer a game. It was a war.

Not losing hope, I moved to the backseat. There still weren't any papers on the seat, but on the driver's side of the backseat I could see a file folder. I glanced in the direction of Sam's house, making sure the coast was clear, and snuck around the back of the car towards the backseat window on the driver's side.

'Bingo!' I thought as I looked down at the folder. A piece of bright pink paper, a flyer of some sort, was sticking out of the folder. As I looked closer, though, I noticed that only the word 'Club' on the flyer was visible, which was completely unhelpful. I already knew that she worked at a club, it was finding out which one that was the problem.

Quickly, I weighed my options. Santana's rental car was a Prius, which as far as cars go isn't very heavy. I knew I could probably rock the car just by putting my weight on it, and hopefully the movement could shake the paper loose. But would that make too much noise? I wasn't sure. My only other option, I concluded, would be to attempt to break into the car, and I knew it wasn't worth it.

But was it worth it to even find out where she worked? My plan wasn't very good, hardly a step up from having no plan, and perhaps it would be easier to just go into Lima and attempt to find the right club. But that wouldn't give me much time to decide what to say when I saw her. So my only option seemed to be right in front of me. Sighing, I placed all my weight on the car and pushed.

Stepping back, I watched the car rock a little. Then I checked my progress. Sure enough, the flyer had moved out of the folder, but no enough to give me the information I needed. So I tried again, pushing the flyer further out of the folder, but still not quite enough. I decided one last push should do it.

I leaned my weight against the car and pushed it as hard as I could, closing my eyes as if that would make my effort more powerful.

Before I could open them and step away from the car, I heard a sound that made my stomach drop a little with surprise.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" Santana asked.

'Oh, crap.' I thought. I stammered for a few seconds. "I, um, I…"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind this. I don't _care_ what you're doing right now. What are you doing _here_? Trying to mess with my boyfriend again?"

The words slipped out of my mouth before I was ready for them. "I'm not messing with your boyfriend." I told her. "If anything, it's you who's messing with him."

She shrugged, apparently not caring enough to deny that that was exactly what she was doing.

"Do you think I don't know?" I asked her. "That you're using him? I know you don't love him, Santana. You never did."

She laughed coldly. "I never claimed to, either, Fabray."

"Then why would you ask him to marry you?" I asked. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? How could you have marriage without love?"

She laughed again, but this time she was laughing at me. "Oh, Quinn." She said. "It's not about love, I was sure you of all people would know that. Do you think love matters in this world? Because it doesn't. This life is about money, Quinn. Money and getting places. You must know that by now."

"But what about Sam?" I asked.

She had no expression. "What _about_ him? I won, Quinn. Don't you get it? You lost, and I won."

"Since when was it about winning?" I asked, even though that very thought had crossed my mind not an hour before. "Sam isn't just some object you can throw around as a prize, Santana. He's a human being. Doesn't that mean anything to you? And why on earth would you want to beat me so badly? What did I do to you?"

"What _didn't_ you do to me?" She asked. "You took everything I wanted in high school. First captain of the Cheerios, then Puck, then Finn, then… once I thought things were going my way finally, you stole the position of captain _again_. One by one, you took away everything I wanted. But you know what, Quinn? You taught me something. You taught me that life isn't about love or even happiness. Life is a war. And it's about winning, no matter what it takes."

"But what could you have to gain by taking Sam away from me? I just don't understand why he's a part of this." I said, not even fully comprehending what Santana had said.

"Were you not listening? It isn't about Sam. It never _was_ about Sam. All I wanted this whole time was to give you a little thanks for the way you wrecked my life in high school. And Sam was the only way I could do that. He's the only thing you have that you couldn't handle losing."

Now I was angry. Surprisingly, I wasn't angry that Santana wanted so badly to hurt me, but more at the fact that she'd thrown Sam around like he didn't matter. He deserved to be loved unconditionally, and that's what I wanted to give him. But instead, he'd chosen her, like Snow White drawn to the poisoned apple, blissfully unaware of the damage she could cause.

"How could you do that to Sam?" I asked. "You know how badly he's hurting. How could you want to hurt him even more?"

"Look, I never said winning was easy, Quinn. But the pros outweigh the cons. Now and then someone's going to get hurt, but what does it matter if you still end up on top? Sam's emotions are the only thing that's been able to stop me from getting to you, and so if he gets hurt, that's just the way it'll have to be."

"What do you mean, his emotions have been in the way?" I asked. "You used his emotions to take him away from me. They were a part of your game, Santana. Don't lie to me about that. I know why Sam went to you after he left me. His pain led him there. Don't deny it."

"Sure, I used them at first." She responded, and it struck me how easily she spoke about this, as though we were merely discussing the weather. "But the only reason Sam hasn't given me an answer yet? Because he can't stop thinking about you." She pronounced 'you' as though it was a dirty word, spitting it out in disgust. Still, I felt my heart leap a little as I heard her last sentence.

"So what makes you think you're going to win this time?" I asked, raising my voice just a little as I watched Sam quietly exit the house and walk towards us behind Santana, his face confused.

Santana paused, smiling wickedly, before raising her voice as well. "Because Sam's rational." She answered. "And I know that I'm gonna have to play my cards just right to get the mixture of his rationality and his loneliness to be enough to take him away. But when I do, Quinn, you'll be sorry you messed with Santana Lopez. And by then, it'll be too late to get your Sam back."

Sam stopped behind Santana, and I could tell from his expression that he'd heard every word Santana had said. "Your cards?" He asked. He bit his lip, and I could tell he was holding back tears. It wasn't like Sam cried a lot, ordinarily he didn't, but the Santana drama on top of our earlier conversation appeared to push him over the edge. "_Your cards?_" He asked again, louder this time. "Is this some kind of game to you?"

She was the one stammering this time. "I… no. I…."

I couldn't hold back a small laugh. "Still think you're going to win, Santana?"

Then Sam turned on me. "Stop it. Stop talking." He said. "I'm sick of this, both of you." He looked at Santana. "You play around with my feelings like they're some kind of sick game, and _you_" He paused, turning to me. "You make me think I can trust you, but it turns out, you can't move on from high school either, because you still let me down when I need you the most."

Both Santana and I were speechless. I knew Sam was right, but I had tried to apologize for my behavior, and I thought we'd moved past it. Apparently not.

"Look, I don't even want to deal with this anymore." He said. "Neither of you care about how this makes me feel." I opened my mouth in protest but he talked over me. "Don't deny it, Quinn. You knew I was hurting, but you insisted on creating more drama for me, and you knew I wouldn't have the energy to deal with it."

I hung my head. He was right again, and we both knew it. But Santana did not appear to be sorry.

"This isn't over, Quinn." She said to me.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes it is. Just leave, Santana. I don't want you here, and I don't want to see you around anymore. Go back to LA; I don't care. But don't come back and try to mess with me again."

Surprisingly, Santana didn't argue. "It's your loss." She said. "So whenever you decide you don't want to be alone for the rest of your life, feel free to let me know. And Quinn, I know _you_ haven't seen the last of me." With that, she got in her car and drove off, leaving me surprised both at how quickly and easily she had gone, and the fact that Sam had completely let her go.

I turned to say something to Sam, but he was walking towards his house, looking at the ground.

I ran to catch up with him. "Sam, I—"

He cut me off. "I don't want to hear it, Quinn. Look, I have a lot to take in right now, and I'd appreciate if you'd give me some space to get sorted out. Maybe I'll come over later if I feel like talking, but for now, I just really need to think." He had stopped walking, looking at me.

"I know." I said. "And I'm going to make this brief, but Sam, you need to know how truly, truly sorry I am. For everything. This whole situation with Santana has made me realize that, while she didn't know what life is really about, I didn't either. But I think I just figured it out. Life is about love, and forgiving those who hurt you." I took a deep breath before continuing. "And I don't expect you to forgive me right away. But I want you to know that I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me for letting you down." I paused again, and he waited for me to finish. "Look, Sam, what I'm trying to say is… I love you. I always have. And more than anything else, I've just remembered that. And I just needed you to know."

I didn't look at Sam's expression. I didn't want to know what he thought. The thought of how vulnerable I had made myself in that one moment scared me too much. So I ran away from Sam. I ran to my car and got in before I could change my mind. I heard him call after me, but my mind was too focused on avoiding the possible pain his words could bring. With that focus alone, I drove off. And I didn't look back.

A/N: Despite how it sounds, this isn't the final chapter. I think I have two left to write? At least, that's how I've planned it. But I end up changing my mind a bunch of times while I write anyway, so we'll have to see whether or not fourteen will be the last chapter. What do you think is going to happen?

** Again, please review if you have a spare moment. I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter and the story overall. Additionally, please feel free to review my other fics. Please? Thanks. ;)**

** Oh, and no one mentioned my idea from my Author's Note last chapter… I'm going to take that to mean no one's interested, which isn't a problem. But if you missed it, I'll post it again right here. So let me know what you think of the idea.**

**Here we go: okay, so, someone in the reviews (at the moment I can't remember who it was) commented that they would like to read Sam's point of view in some of this story. Well, I thought about that for a while, and from a writer's standpoint I don't want to do that, because it would get confusing for me to write it, and also, probably, for the reader, if I kept switching the point of views. However, I wonder if anyone else was wondering about Sam's view of this whole thing. And so, I had an idea. (Again, this is just an **_**idea**_**, but please let me know in your review what you think.) So, I know that Stephenie Meyer wrote the **_**Twilight**_** series (which I hate, by the way, if you were wondering. Okay. Off topic.) from Bella's point of view, but then she **_**also**_** wrote a book called **_**Midnight Sun**_**, which was basically like **_**Twilight**_**, only from Edward's point of view. So, if anyone's interested in reading Sam's point of view, I might consider writing this story through his eyes after I'm done…anyway, again, that's just a thought, but please let me know if you're interested!**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm so sorry it's been so long! I have AP tests coming up, among other things. And I know I give you lame excuses every time, but I thought I should just let you know I haven't forgotten the story. I've just been busy. **

**At the request of one of my readers, I will be writing a Finn/Rachel fic next. I have the idea all planned out, but I'm going to wait until the end of this story to begin it. And until then, my lips are sealed. Speaking of the end of this story, it's almost that time. This chapter may seem like the end, but I assure you it is not. There will be one more (albeit short) chapter after this, the epilogue, in which I'll attempt to finish tying up all loose ends.**

**I wrote a Ron/Hermione oneshot for my friend lifeisveryshortsoami's birthday, so you can find that on my profile page. I welcome all readers and reviewers. Oh! And I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter, as it basically wraps up most of the story.**

**Thanks so much everyone! I look forward to hearing from you all!**

**DISCLAIMER: Glee is sadly not mine. If it were, there'd be more actual entertainment and less propaganda. (Cue rant.) **

By the time I got home, it had started to rain, which seemed appropriate. It wasn't the good kind of rain, either. The kind where you want to run outside and dance through the falling drops until you fall, exhausted, onto the wet grass, completely content. No, it was the kind of rain children are afraid of. The kind that makes everyone miserable, and even having an umbrella and a raincoat can't shield you from it. I usually liked rain, but not today. Today it seemed that the universe was mocking me in my pain, and I couldn't bear to sit there and watch the rain come down.

I parked my car in the driveway and got out, shutting the car door quickly behind me so the pouring rain wouldn't drench the inside of my car. As I raced from my car to the front door, I couldn't tell if I was still crying or if it was simply the droplets of rain running down my face from my already soaked hair. As quickly as possible, I jammed my key in the lock and opened the door. As I rushed inside, I went directly to the bathroom. I turned the shower on and looked at my face in the bathroom mirror.

It's safe to say that I looked terrible, worse than ever. My hair was plastered to my scalp, dripping with rainwater, and the mascara streaks down my cheeks made me look like a deranged raccoon. My eyes were swollen and puffy from crying, and even my skin looked different, almost dead, the abnormally pale color making me look haunted. To sum up, I looked about as bad as I felt.

I grabbed my face wash from the cabinet and got into the shower, ready to cleanse myself of the mess the day's events and put me in. I've heard it said that actors sometimes take showers before they play important roles so that they can symbolically wash the problems of their personal life down the drain and focus on becoming their character. It sounded like a good enough idea, so I forced my problems down the drain as well, purging my thoughts of all Sam-and-Santana memories, as well as the words I'd said to Sam before fleeing.

I washed my face and my hair, getting rid of all the dirty rainwater and the makeup marks on my face. It was strange how I'd felt so beautiful and confident as I'd left my house this morning, and now I felt so vulnerable and empty inside. But I'm the glass-half-full type most of the time, (though I hadn't felt much like it lately) and as I got cleaned up, I began to feel more and more confident that things could only get better.

Eventually I got out of the shower and dried myself off. The idea of getting rid of my thoughts hadn't completely worked, but I still managed to push away my remaining questions. 'These things will work themselves out.' I told myself. But the more I repeated it, the harder it was to believe. Hoping to convince myself that I was improving, I checked my face in the bathroom mirror again, convincing myself that I looked much better. Surprisingly, that lifted my spirits a little. It felt better to be a mess emotionally if I at least _looked_ put together.

I was glad I didn't have work that day. I wasn't quite ready to be in front of people, and besides, it's awful trying to keep all my equipment dry in such a storm. However, the lack of business I'd had lately frightened me a little, but I knew I'd have some jobs come along before long. And anyways I wasn't sure how I'd feel to have to watch weddings happen. It's hard to look at two people who are so in love join together without having to think about how jealous you are of the pureness of their love.

After I was dressed, I took the picture of Rachel off my bedside table. Behind it, I noticed a photo of Sam and me, which I'd taken back when we were still best friends. As I'd thought it would, it still hurt too much to look at it, so I turned it facedown and focused my attention back on Rachel's picture. I'd been speaking to her more and more lately, and I have to say it helped me through all the ups and downs of my life as of late. I knew she couldn't answer me when I spoke to her, but I'd always believed she was up there, listening, maybe even chuckling a little at the predicament I'd put myself in. And I knew that if she was, she'd want me to feel better. So I hoped that talking to her would at least relieve some of the stress.

Finally, I decided to let all the thoughts I'd been pushing away to come out. Sometimes, talking to Rachel out loud helped me, because it forced me to confront my problems head on, instead of merely thinking about them. Though talking to her was a bit like talking to myself, I didn't feel stupid doing it, especially since I was in the privacy of my own home, where no one but Rachel and God Himself could hear what I had to say. "Rachel, I really screwed up." I said out loud. "I told Sam how I feel, and then I left. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now; I'm certain he doesn't feel the same."

It was at that moment that I wished, more than ever before, that she could answer me. "Where did I go wrong?" I asked. "I never meant to do this to him, or fall for him. And now I've wrecked the stability he had with Santana as well. His whole life has been messed up, and it's entirely my fault."

I looked down at the picture of Rachel in my hands. She was so beautiful, so innocent. "Rach, I know you're up there, and I know you're watching over me." I told her, closing my eyes as if in prayer. "Please, just help everything be okay again."

After that, I said nothing more. I put the picture of Rachel back on my bedside table and sat there quietly, losing myself in my thoughts. Before long, I had nearly fallen asleep, realizing I was exhausted from the morning's events.

I suppose it was around midday, maybe early afternoon, when I was jolted from my thoughts and my half-asleep state by a knock on the door. I wondered who it could be; the rain hadn't stopped, and anyone in their right mind would have stayed indoors instead of driving over to visit me. Cautiously, I slipped out of my room and down the hall towards the front door. Slowly, I opened the door.

Sam was standing on my doorstep, rain soaked, with an expression I couldn't read. "Hi." I said quietly.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

I shrugged and then decided I may as well be honest with him. "I guess, but I don't really want to talk about what happened today."

"Look, Quinn, will you just hear me out?" He said. "After everything that happened, you owe me that much. I just…I have to tell you something."

I nodded, and we stepped inside. A moment later, he began to speak. "These past few weeks, so much has happened that I haven't really had time to comprehend it all. But today, I think I finally managed to get a hold on everything. And I discovered something."

He looked at me briefly, as if waiting for me to ask what he had discovered, but I said nothing. I wasn't sure I wanted to know. If our friendship came to an end permanently, I didn't want to think I had invited him to tell me so.

He looked afraid for a second, and hesitated before speaking, his eyes shining with emotion. "It's just that, I realized something these past few weeks. It's just… it's you, Quinn. And I think I just didn't notice because I thought you were just my best friend. But it's you. It's always been you."

I didn't want to let myself misunderstand his words, so I said nothing and waited for him to continue. I'd learned not to say too much when he had something on his mind; it was better to hear what he had to say and then give him my input. But in any case I had no input at the moment. I had to admit I was a little confused, and didn't dare let myself think about what I hoped he was saying, in case I was terribly wrong, as I'd been so many times with him before.

He took a deep, shaky breath, continuing. "I know you were right today in saying that Santana used me. But the thing is, I think I knew all along, and I let her. At first I couldn't figure out why, but I'm pretty sure I know now. I think the whole Santana thing was just to cover up what I've been feeling all along. I don't know why I didn't want to admit it to myself, Quinn, but I have now. I realized that I still believe in love. And I am so…." He paused, shaking his head a little and smiling. "So in love with you. And I'm sorry I didn't—"

I didn't let him finish. Before I could even comprehend what I was doing, I was kissing him. We stood there, our arms around each other, frozen in the moment, ignoring the sound of the rain on the roof. In that moment, there was nothing to worry about; no one was there but us, and I wouldn't have it any other way. And I felt better, better than I had in years, because for the first time in years, I was finally complete again.

As we broke apart, he pulled me into a tight hug and kissed the top of my head. Being in his arms felt just as I'd remembered, and I knew that this time, he was never going to have to let me go. I wasn't going to let that happen ever again. Surrounded by an intense happiness at last, I couldn't resist muttering to myself, "Thank you, Rachel."

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Please let me know in the reviews, I'm so excited to find out! Thanks, guys! I'll do my best to have the epilogue up shortly, but like I said, I'll be having AP tests during the next few weeks, so feel free to inspire me to get it up quickly by reviewing. (Blatant plea for reviews there, sorry. Haha.)**


	14. Epilogue

**A/N: Well, here you go. The epilogue of TPIITP starts here. It's been a great ride guys, thanks for coming along! Hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave thoughts on this chapter or the story as a whole in the reviews. Thanks so much!**

**DISCLAIMER: Even after 14 chapters, including a prologue and epilogue, Glee still isn't mine. Sorry.**

I couldn't remember ever being happier in the weeks that followed. Starting my new life with Sam was just as our old friendship had been, except now I was free to hold his hand and kiss him, and tell him how much I loved him, all of which has obviously been forbidden in our platonic friendship.

There was no more fighting, no more storming out, and no more drama. Admittedly we occasionally disagreed, but our love was strong enough to bring us through those times.

Sam didn't have a problem with me talking to Rachel, and I continued to do so. I liked telling her about my happiness rather than my problems. Even once, Sam took the photo of Rachel and said to her, "Rachel, I just want you to know how much I love your sister." Of course, she still could not respond, but I'm certain she was smiling above us.

About a month after Sam and I had officially began our relationship, I got a call from Tina Chang. "Mike and I are throwing a party." She said. "Do you want to come? Oh and do you have Sam Evans' number? I can't find it."

"Yeah, absolutely." I told her. "I'll tell him."

I was happy to finally be able to see my old friends again without the awkwardity that came with avoiding their questions about my love life. By the time the party rolled around, Sam and I had decided to go, eager to officially announce that we were a couple.

Mike answered the door when we arrived. I hugged him and thanked him for inviting us, and he shook hands with Sam. Then the three of us went into the living room, where we were greeted by the rest of the Glee club (with the exception of Santana) and their significant others.

"Quinn!" Mercedes was the first to come over to me as I entered the room. "She threw her arms around me and said, "Damian and I have set a date! Do you still want to do our pictures?"

"Of course!" I answered. "I'd be honored."

She leaned closer to me and muttered in my ear, "What going on with you and Sam? Santana's been spreading a few rumors…first time most of us talked to her in years."

"Oh, well, um…what exactly has Santana told you?" I asked, wanting to be clear before setting the record straight.

"C'mon over here," She said, motioning towards where most of the Glee girls were standing. "Everyone wants to talk about it."

I laughed a little. "Just like high school." I said softly.

I got over to the group and was greeted by everyone. Rachel Berry, Brittany, Tina, Mercedes, and Lauren were all there. But no one gave me their own update. Instead, they all seemed to look at Mercedes as if to say, "Well, did you ask her?"

"Whoa, guys, what's going on?" I asked. "Why is everyone so quiet?"

"Well," Rachel began, but Mercedes cut her off.

"I guess we all just want to hear about what you've been up to lately." She said. "I mean, we've heard some stuff from Santana, but it just didn't sound… I mean, it _was _Santana…"

"Hold up." I answered. "What have you been hearing from Santana? I thought she didn't even talk to you guys anymore. No offense."

"Well, she didn't used to." Lauren said. "But then I guess…about a month ago, she suddenly added all of us on Facebook, and started talking about you."

"And what did she say?" I asked.

Suddenly they all looked sort of nervous, like they really didn't want to tell me.

"Well?" I prompted.

Brittany spoke first. "She said you stole Sam from her, and you were using Sam to get to her, and that she was going to get you for it."

I almost laughed. "None of that is true." I told them. "It's actually the opposite. I caught Santana using Sam and stopped her. No one stole him or anything. He's over there, you can ask him."

Tina cut in then. "Well, we didn't believe her, really." She said, trying to convince me. "I mean, it didn't make sense for her to just talk to all of us out of the blue if there wasn't something behind it."

The others nodded. "But Santana said she'd be back." Brittany said. "Because Sam asked—"

Lauren cut her off. "Hush, Brittany. I'm sure it was just another lie." But the others suddenly seemed nervous, and I chose not to ask what they were talking about, figuring I'd find out soon enough if Santana was coming back. Although I have to admit, the fact that Sam had asked her to do something sure sounded odd. Anyway, I wanted to get past the awkward conversation we'd been having, so I tried to forget about it.

"So… what's new with everyone?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, Puckerman's been very persistent." Lauren answered. "But I've still refused to go out with him. Who knows what's going to happen next?"

Ever since Mercedes had cut her off at the beginning of the conversation, Rachel had been very quiet. "What's new with you, Rachel?" I asked her.

She bounced back into the conversation, talking a mile a minute about how she and Finn were moving to New York, but I noticed that her grin didn't reach her eyes, and I knew that there was a reason she'd been so quiet. But I chose not to ask about it, because clearly she wanted to keep the matter private.

As we updated each other, (everyone was excited about my new relationship with Sam, I might add) I kept my eye on Rachel, but if she was still sad, she chose not to show it. But then, she's always been a talented actress. I still knew better than to press the issue though, so I soon forgot about it. My friends seemed just as content as I was, and when it came time to leave, I was sad to say goodbye.

Just before leaving, I pulled Rachel aside and asked her if everything was okay. "I noticed you were quiet earlier." I told her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Oh, I'm fine. I've just been a little distracted lately. Thanks though, Quinn."

I gave her a hug. "Call me if you need anything." I told her, and then Sam and I left the party.

Sam and I had driven together to the party, but his car was at my house, so I drove us there. I kissed him goodnight and then went inside, tired and ready to go to bed. But as I opened the door, I was shocked to see someone already standing in the front hallway. She was back yet again.

"What are you doing?" I asked Santana.

She ignored my question. "Thanks for leaving these stupid pictures everywhere." She said sarcastically, holding up a photo of Sam and me, where Sam was kissing my cheek. "It's not like I needed pictures to prove you guys have a relationship."

"Hold on." I said. "What are you even doing here? This is my house, I don't especially want you here."

"Look, I said you hadn't seen the last of me." Santana said. "But this wasn't my idea either. I didn't ask to come over."

"Then who invited you?" I asked.

"I did." Sam answered, coming in the door behind me. "It was a surprise."

"Surprise how?" I asked, suddenly remembering how some of the girls at the party had mentioned Sam asking Santana to do something. "What's going on?"

"Quinn, look at me for a second. There's something I have to ask you." Sam said.

I didn't turn around; I was way too weirded out. "Wait, why is she here?" I asked, glancing at Santana.

"Relax." He said. Then, quieter so only I could her, he said, "I wanted her to see something, just so she remembers not to mess with us again."

Before I had time to consider this, Sam had walked around so he was in front of me and had gotten down on one knee, a ring box in his hand. "Quinn, I promise I'll love you until the day we die. I want to be the man you grow old with, and I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?"

"Okay, seriously?" Santana asked. "I thought you wanted to actually bring Quinn down for once. I came back for this?"

We both ignored her. I didn't know I could smile so big. "On one condition." I told him.

He frowned. "What?"

I pulled him up to standing position and just before I leaned in to kiss him, I answered, "Help me find someone else to do our wedding photos?"

**A/N: Well, there you go. TPIITP is officially complete. Now, if you want to find out what's going on with Rachel and why she's been so quiet, look for my new multi-chapter, **_**Shattered Silence**_**, coming soon!**

** P.S. Another thanks to everyone who's followed this story since the beginning. You guys are too awesome for words. Or if I had to pick a word, you guys are supermegafoxyawesomehot. Thanks, y'all!**


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